Maiden Voyage Old version
by Jaffa Fairy
Summary: Catherine doesn't care for the sea or adventures, but that doesn't bother Captain Sparrow. Slaves, mutinous pirates and failed plans abound...NOT a marysue or so I've been told COMPLETE but check out Maiden Voyage New and Improved, for a better version!
1. Chpt 1

Though no one who's ever met me would believe I almost married a pirate, it's the truth.  
  
It was long ago, of course, when I was only seventeen – over 10 years ago now. I lived on an Island in the West Indies, Barbados; my father was fairly high up in the local society, mostly merchants from England. Our family had made the crossing when I was a baby, and our big house nestled up high in the hills was the only home I knew. We were rich, I suppose, I never had any comparison then but looking back I see a spoilt girl whose every whim was granted. I've often heard poverty brings out the worst in people, but I believe it was my privileged lifestyle that turned me into the disagreeable young madam I was at seventeen.  
  
Our family had quite a lot to do with His Majesty's Royal Navy, supplying them with cloth for uniforms as far as I know – I admit I never cared much about my father's business. But it did mean we spent a lot of time around the docks, in the small rocky bay of our little island. My father would conduct his business and I would wander around, looking out to sea wistfully. Not out of any desire for adventure, you understand, but because I had read about young ladies doing this in popular fiction of the time and thought it a terribly romantic thing for young ladies to do.  
  
I never had any desire to leave my small world, no feeling of restriction in my life. Quite the opposite' I had everything I could possibly want and looked forward to some dashing Navy husband and a house of my own, with all the servants, conveniences and luxuries of my youth. I was not the sort of girl who went on adventures, nor did I want to be. I felt girls of this sort were a wild and stupid bunch – to search out perfection when it lay before them on a silver platter, held by a West Indian slave.  
  
Nevertheless, adventure came to me, in the shape of a Captain of a ship with black sails. Pirates were one of the chief fears on the island. We were isolated and not very well defended, and they had come before – looting the grand houses, raping, pillaging and burning. Many times a ship had sailed in, blown into a sorry state by cannon fire, half the crew dead and cargo stolen. I, like everyone else, liked to see the bodies of pirates, hung to rot on an outcrop of our jagged bay. These did not deter the Black Pearl though.  
  
The ship sailed in on a foggy evening on the edge of winter. There were ghost stories about this ship; black sails, made berth at an island no compass could find (that was wrong, it turned out) and crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil hell itself spat him back out again. And in it sailed, the boats came to shore and the pirates clambered up the beach. I saw all this, though by rights I should have been in my warm bed by that hour.  
  
I had had an argument with my mother (the subject so petty I cannot even remember it now) and had stormed off to the bay out of childish anger. It was something I had done so often before, my parents were not worried – they assumed I would come back, as I always had on previous occasions, once my temper had cooled.  
  
I had almost reached this stage and was feeling rather foolish and sorry for myself when I saw the Black Pearl. I knew every ship that regularly came to our island, and this dark and foreboding stranger struck a deep chord of fear with me. For, though I hardly dare even admit it to inanimate paper, I truly believed God had sent the Black Pearl to punish me. In the minutes before the ship came into my sight I had been contemplating all the untimely ways I might meet my death that evening and how my mother would regret not granting my request if that occurred (as spoilt young persons are apt to do in such situations). No sooner had the word 'pirates' crossed my mind, than the Black Pearl sailed into view.  
  
I hitched up my skirts and ran the full length of the beach to a shallow cave I had played in as a child. There I crouched in a dark corner, the pungent smell of seaweed around me and saltwater stinging my eyes. And, for the first time in my life I believe, I sent up a reverent and truly honest prayer to God, to save me from these dreadful criminals if it was in his power with a faithful promise never to disobey or aggravate my parents ever again. The dark figures made their way up the beach, avoiding the area of my cave but making straight for the town. I sent solemn thanks to God, selfish enough to believe whatever deity there might be above us would send pirates to attack a whole community to save one girl.  
  
I sat in that cave for hours – I watched the moon rise and the beach illuminated in black and silver – a depressing contrast to the golden sands and clear blue sea of daytime. I listened to the screams and clash of swords with a kind of stupefied detachment. My legs were numb and damp and my head ached – I truly could not believe my situation and the sounds of destruction for the town meant no more than a fairytale to me. The ship lurched on the waters like a drunken man – with one solitary light on its prow.  
  
I must have fallen asleep, because my next memory is that of silence, with a deep fog over the bay and feeling very cold. The moon was clouded over, the night was black as pitch and there was no sign of the ships lamp – in short I felt under enough cover to risk emerging from my hiding place and returning to my home. Carefully, with aching muscles, I crawled out of the bay, the feeling of sharp cold sand on my knees and palms was agony and after only moving a few feet, I stopped to rest them. And I sat cross- legged on the beach, rubbing my painful hands then raised my head, where my eyes met with a barrel of a pistol.  
  
"'Ello, me lady" Drawled a common, but oddly elegant accent of a kind I had not heard before.  
  
My eyes focused on the figure behind the pistol and I confess I had never seen a more fearsome man in my life. His clothes were soiled and ripped, his hair a matted mess adorned with beads and surmounted by a red bandanna, with a tri-corner hat over that. His face was deeply tanned, his eyes lined with kohl and gold flashed in his mouth as he grinned. He kneeled down in the sand opposite me, still aiming the pistol. He leant close to me, his rum-tainted breath was on my face, but I dared not move.  
  
"Now," He spoke slowing, as if instructing a child, though I was too afraid to be infuriated "You're going to keep ver' quiet an' follow me, savvy?"  
  
No one had ever spoken to me like that before, no one had dared, the very idea of this common pirate ordering Catherine Barbrook around like a servant! This was not to be borne! Despite my fear, a flame of anger flickered inside me and I stood and began to run. Naturally the pirate was faster, even if I had not been sitting in a cave for nearly a whole night, with pins and needles shooting up and down my leg, I believe he would have caught me. As it was, he had both my arms locked behind my back and the pistol pressed into the base of my spine within a few paces of my attempted escape. I went quietly then, I had seen prisoners shot for their crimes and I had no desire to suffer the same bloody death. The pirate called some names I did not catch and two men moved, as if by magic, out of the shadows and almost dragged me bodily through the shallow waves to a boat waiting in the protection of a rocky outcrop.  
  
"I don't like this Jack, jest so's yer know." I heard one whisper. "I thought we were to keep to the code."  
  
We rowed out to the ship in silence, it waited in the inky waters, sails fully unfurled – ready for a quick escape. The pirate was not grinning now, but staring at me, with his dark eyes. I felt deeply uncomfortable and self- conscious. Suddenly the boat knocked against the hull of the ship and the pirate stood.  
  
"After you, me lady." He took a deep, slow bow. Despite the dark night I could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes and I hated him for it. 


	2. Chpt 2

"Now love, yer 'ave a choice 'ere." The pirate grinned slyly at me as we stood in his quarters. In the flickering candle light I could see he was not a young man, perhaps in his thirties, his flamboyant foppishness betrayed by the blood smeared on his sword hilt and the gun tucked into his belt. "Yer can stay in my rooms 'ere in the lap o' luxury," He gestured expansively around him. "Or yer can sleep in the brig." He finished, wrinkling his nose as he spoke the word.  
  
"I don't bargain with criminals." I spoke with all the determination and conviction I could muster. I stood, trembling with fright "Especially when I do not even know their name."  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service" Again that slow, mocking bow "And am I to learn your name?"  
  
"Miss Barbrook" I replied shortly, a flare of anger suddenly erupting. "And what is the name of this ghastly little tub you have dragged me onto?" Immediately I saw I had made a mistake. Jack Sparrow stepped toward me, his eyes like thunder. He pulled out his pistol once more and, for the first time I noticed, pulled the flintlock back. "Don't presume to insult the Black Pearl, you prim, simpering sow." He lowered the gun very slightly "Which is it to be."  
  
"Not the brig." I gulped out, my eyes fixed upon the now lowered gun.  
  
"Marvellous, follow me then." He extended a hand in his oddly elegant style, I did not move. "Oh come, come Miss. Barbrook. This will not do. I'm glad to have taught you some manners, but I didn't bring you aboard to play a death mute."  
  
"Then why did you bring me?" I asked, backing off, half-afraid of the answer.  
  
"Don't be so arrogant Miss. Barbrook, yer quite safe wiv' me. All will be revealed in time" His golden, shark-like smile did little to reassure me. "I'll show you to yer quarters." He held out his hand once more, and once more I made no move to take it. He left the small dining room not by the doors panelled with glass that lead to the deck, but through a smaller one, down some narrow dark stairs. I followed, wondering what quarters a captain of a pirate ship would deem acceptable for a young lady. He led me into a cabin, where he stumbled for a candle, lit it (though it shed little light). We went through another door into a smaller cabin, with no windows. Jack Sparrow lit the wall mounted candles and I saw the cabin was neatly, though sparsely furnished. A wash stand stood in one corner; there was narrow bunk built into the sloping wall, a threadbare rug on the floor and other assorted oddments of furniture. The whole room was musty, the surfaces thick with dust and I wondered why it had been left unused for so long.  
  
Jack Sparrow had taken hold of my hand to guide me down the steep, narrow staircase and I tried to shake him off now. But he held fast and pulled me close to him. I believe this is the first time I felt truly alone - away from home; stolen aboard a lawless ship, never to see my family, my house or my dear little island again. He leant close to me, and once more I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He seemed to hesitate for a minute and then left the room, muttering 'Sweetdreams, Miss. Barbrook."  
  
Not knowing what else to do, I pulled up the covers of the bunk and crawled under, silencing my sobs with the bolster.  
  
The next morning I was woken, with puffy eyes and a pain in my head, by the sound of gulls crying their harsh guttural cry. I came to, the memories of what I had hoped had been a bad dream came trickling back.  
  
The night before I had thought the cabin windowless, but now I could see two pairs of shutters on one wall. I opened them – the view was a disheartening one – empty ocean as far as I could see and the sky scattered with patchy could. For a while I stared at this dismal sight, wondering what I could do – a hundred impossible plans flittered across my mind. The sun rose beyond the vast blue horizon and I realised escape was impossible while at sea.  
  
Strangely, once I had resigned myself to this, I felt slightly more cheerful. Not wanting to sit, staring pitifully outside like some melodramatic heroine I made to tidy my hair, overnight pins had become dislodged and my thick dark curls hung about me like a tangled cloud. Try as I might, I could not smooth it, and my eyes pricked with tears and I pulled in vain at the pins and knots.  
  
Abandoning my hair, I took hold of my courage and ventured beyond the door to the cabin I had passed through the previous night. It was another sleeping quarter, not dissimilar to mine, save the furniture, which was on a rather a grander scale. Yet no rugs adorned the floor and the shutters remained closed – letting in only small lines of light that played around the flakes of dust in the room. I resolutely pulled them back then wished I had not.  
  
On the bed, naked save his breeches, was Captain Jack Sparrow. My first thought was to retreat back to my berth, but the pirate awoke, with a groan, before I could move. His eyes seemed to focus on me, after a time and, his voice low as if he had a cough; he spoke with a grimace.  
  
"Oh, right, you," He smiled wanly. "Give a man a little privacy, can't yer, love?"  
  
"I would be pleased to grant you all the privacy in the world, as soon as you return me to my home!" In the pale early morning light, I noticed how pallid his face looked and felt no fear of this obviously drunken fool. He frowned as if something pained him and clambered to the end of the bed with an odd, jolting yet graceful gait I had noticed the night before, but had then attributed it to drink.  
  
"Look love, I can't take yer 'ome jest at the moment. Jest sit tight 'ere while we go on our merry way round abouts and I promise we'll return you safe and sound" He hesitated. "Eventually. Do we have an accord?" He stuck out his hand as if to seal a bargain.  
  
"Eventually?" I repeated "Mister S..."  
  
"Cap'n."  
  
"Captain Sparrow, where exactly to we sail for?"  
  
"To the West Coast of Africa, trading out there has become quite the fashion fer young merchants such as meself."  
  
I sneered, but as I did my heart sank – Africa! That could have been the other side of the world for all I knew – how would I ever get home?  
  
And yet I reached out and took his hand, what else could I do? His word was the only thing I had. As we shook, he grinned his wide, cunning grin at me. "I knew yer'd warm up to me."  
  
****  
  
So we set out across the Atlantic Ocean. I had made this crossing before, but was too young to remember. For the first few days I was sick as a dog, the pitching of the boat in the open sea was the worst sensation I have ever felt. I kept to my room throughout this time, and even after the sickness had died down I was loathed to venture out. Sparrow would check on me periodically laughing first at my green face and later at my refusals to join the crew for meals (he would bring me scraps – and foul things they were). He was never overly cruel, however, and often urged me to 'make me'self comfor'ble' on the Black Pearl.  
  
I vowed to stay in my cabin and wait for our return to Barbados. But gradually I grew bored of the same view from my windows. The air seemed thick – my bedsheets were creased and stiff from sweat, my hair hung limply from my head and I felt I should go mad if I stayed in their much longer.  
  
The voyage seemed to be taking weeks and I told myself I would simply venture on deck to inquire why we were not making better time. I was never brought water to drink, only foul weak beer and when I asked Sparrow to bring me some to wash with when he brought my breakfast he laughed so long and loud I could see every one of his gold teeth.  
  
"Yer think we can spare water for yer vanity – bless yer green 'eart, yer'll soon learn."  
  
I pursed my lips and walked smartly past him – my first visit to the deck since the night I arrived. 


	3. Chpt 3

The sunlight burnt my eyes and for a moment I stood there, blinking shading my face with my hand. The deck was a hive of activity, pirates fairly swarmed over it, each intent on some complicated task that baffled me. Here; one pulled on a rope that drew up into the heavens, there; one climbing up the rigging and again here; mopping water into kind of gutter than ran down the sides of the deck. One man stood with a map in hand, I assumed him in charge and strode forward to speak with him. Before I had quite reached the man, he turned and with a kind of horror I realised he was no man at all, but a woman, dressed in the shabby attire of a sailor. She looked as surprised as I did.  
  
"Well bless me stars, if I 'adn't quite forgotten about you." She laughed in her lilting Caribbean accent, rolling up the map as she spoke. I smiled wanly, and pressed on with my inquiry.  
  
"Please." I spoke the world with difficulty "Could you tell me why were haven't reached Africa yet – is there something holding us back?"  
  
Again she laughed, and I began to feel quite bewildered, all that had changed in my life seemed to roll over me like a wave, bigger than any that had caused me sickness these past days. The sun was suddenly hotter and bigger, the deck so wet and slick and the smell of salt and sodden wood so strong I could barely stand. My mind felt blank – as it had done while sitting in the cave. Dizzy and confused I reached out for a handhold, found none and began to stumble.  
  
"There now," The woman stopped laughing and took my arm, concern crossing her face. "We are makin' good time, there is a sturdy wind be'ind us and we look to see land in just over three weeks."  
  
"Three weeks?" I asked faintly, my mind still swimming like a fish  
  
"You needn't worry, Jack is a man of 'is word, for all 'is foolishness and 'e will see you home safe." She looked around the deck and seemed to look sad. "If only others 'ad my faith in 'im." I was not interested why people would or would not have faith in Sparrow, yet there was one question I did want to ask.  
  
"Why did he steal me away then?" I put to the woman boldly.  
  
"Wit' Jack, who can say?" She spoke, I thought, in an overly careless voice "No man in 'is right mind would want you around, in my opinion. My guess is you were s'posed to be company fer this long voyage." She sniffed, and again that sad look "though why 'e should steal it from islands I'm sure I don't know. But there now, I can see yer've not taken well to the sea, come 'ere wit' Anamaria and we'll fix you up."  
  
I followed her up the deck, admiring her easy walk, allowed by her male attire. Struggling behind in my long skirts made wet by the deck, I felt almost green with envy. She led me through a small door in the bow of the ship. Inside I was surprised to see a stove, pots, cutlery and a small well- scrubbed table. I gazed around me, Anamaria noticed my wrinkled nose and spoke harshly.  
  
"Well, I'm sure it's not wot yer used to, but it's the best galley yer could hope fer on a pirate ship, even if we ain't got no regular cook" She shot me a haughty look. "Wait here." She left swiftly through the door we had entered.  
  
I sat on a stool, trying not to think about the great smoked joints of beef and bacon that were hanging above my head, engaged in a filthy dance with several dozen flies. The room was an interesting one, however and it was easy to be distracted. It seemed to contain everything a cook was ever likely to need – it a space several times smaller than I could ever imagine a kitchen to be.  
  
Presently Anamaria returned, her dark face red from the effort of rolling a large barrel before. I couldn't help but look downcast.  
  
"Not more beer?"  
  
For a reply, she struck a tap into a knothole in the barrel, and held a cup underneath as the liquid pored out.  
  
"Water!" I cried, unable to contain my delight, to think that I, Catherine Barbrook, should be so happy about a simple thing like water. Anamaria smiled; evidently glad she had provoked such a reaction in me.  
  
"It is a precious resource on any ship, an' more so fer us, so use it sparingly. Yet I am not so much the sailor that I don't know whot a wash in clean water means to a woman."  
  
I later learnt that these shows of what she called 'fem'nine ways' were few and far between with Anamaria. The crew did not expect it of her, and respected her for her hard, mannish attitude.  
  
And it was that night I met the crew for the fist time, after I had washed and eaten breakfast with Anamaria she convinced me to share in her nightly ration of rum. I hesitated, but finally agreed, it seemed preferable to another night listening to the faint sound of Sparrow's snores.  
  
The crew was exactly what I had expected in many ways, and yet in others was completely different from what I had imagined. The were a 'mixed-up lot', the statement of the boatswain Gibbs, gathered from Tortuga by him after he had spent a night drinking with Sparrow and become embroiled in some plot of his. Their ship had not been the Pearl then, but a Navy vessel named 'The Interceptor'. The crew had won the Pearl back in the subsequent adventure, though they seemed unwilling to divulge the details.  
  
There were all shabbily dressed, and their curses would shock you and their scars and deformities would make you shudder, they were cruel and cold-hearted men for the most part. Thought each I learnt, in the weeks I knew them, had a grain of humanity, a dream or desire that drove them and made them human and kind. It is my adventures in these weeks of which I am about to tell you. But I am getting ahead of myself, I will try to give you an idea of what life on the Black Pearl was like, or you will understand little of what I now intend to tell you.  
  
To begin with, life on a pirate ship is not as shambolic as you would image. Pirates cannot afford to be drunk, or intoxicated or lazy when they're are guiding what is, in essence, a heavy piece of wood through deep and treacherous water. To do this, and do it well and safely took much knowledge and no little skill. The steering of the ship alone kept me occupied in a state of confusion for weeks. What was each of the sails for? If the sails propelled us why did we also need oars? What did you do if the wind was in the wrong direction? These are just a sample of the many hundreds of questions that I asked in my first few weeks on the ship. All this I could have easily learnt before, living on an island where nearly all trade was conducted in huge docks, but I had never been interested. Suddenly with nothing else to occupy me, I was determined to learn it all.  
  
This is my understanding of the ship during my time there – I'm sure many sailors would laugh at my interpretation, but more than this I cannot tell you. The black Pearl was not a small ship, but compared to some of the large Naval and trading vessels I had seen in my life it seemed in bad state of repair. There were three masts (named front, main and mizzen from bow to stern) their sails as I believe I've already mentioned were black and in no fit state of repair. The rigging was also rotten in several places and full of holes, I could not watch any time a crew member was required to climb it to reach the crow's nest. The dining room in which I had past my first evening was known as the port deck cabin, the first mate's berth next door being the starboard deck cabin. Below these were the rooms where Jack Sparrow and myself slept. The other cabins were in the bows of the ship (that is, the front) below the galley were our meals were cooked, here Gibbs and several other higher-ranked sailors such as the Master Gunner and Carpenter slept.  
  
The rest of the crew slept below the deck, in a large open space, entered by a hatch in front of the main mast. Here one set of stairs leads you down to the bulk of the lower deck, the other to the brig, which I will describe presently. Benches border each side of the hull in the larger space, and it is here the crew row if we are becalmed. Cannons lie between them, I learned that the Pearl was unusually well armed for a pirate ship – they are generally built for speed. Hammocks are hung from the ceiling and along with the several tables and chairs that adorn the empty middle stretch of deck it is not a wholly unpleasant place. The other staircase leads to a door. Behind it is a small room, most of its space taken up by three iron cubes – this is the brig and ever since I first saw it I was eternally grateful I did not have to spend my first night there, as many other of the pirates captives have. The cabins at the front of the ship are reached from a hatch in the galley. Below this deck, is the hold of the ship is where the supplies and treasures were kept; though despite the dreadful tales about the greed of pirates, stores of both were generally quite low.  
  
The top deck was a relatively simple affair. The space that wasn't taken up by the four boats, canons, anchor chains, rope and various other oddments (their uses a mystery to me) was mostly taken up by pirates. Captain Sparrow usually resided over this shambles rather arrogantly on the poop deck. He always liked to be at the wheel, even if we were dead on course and a telescope and compass were never to be seen out of his hands.  
  
However, as much as I learnt about the life of a sailor and a pirate, there was still one question the crew were unwilling to answer; what we were to do in Africa and why I was being kept onboard the ship. 


	4. Chpt 4

As promised by Anamaria, we reached Africa in a little over three weeks The crew wanted to land immediately and spend a couple of nights sampling the bars and taverns before any work got underway, but Sparrow would not allow it. His plan was to wait for a ship to plunder before we went to shore.  
  
Waiting, just out of view of the harbour was a gruelling business. The crew were edgy and ready to fight, all around the becalmed ship I saw them sharpening their cutlasses and counting out power and shot. Sparrow along with Gibbs and Anamaria who I had since learnt was the quartermaster; a second in command and the only one capable of dealing out rations, rewards and punishments, spent most of their time in the captain's dining room. What they were discussing I did not know, but I often heard their low, harsh voices carrying on long into the night. I myself grew more and more nervous about what Sparrow's plans in Africa had to do with me.  
  
Luckily we did not have long to wait; we had arrived near the shores of Accra, one of the busiest English merchant ports in the whole of the empire. My own dear island, with its grand docks and sturdy fort was a mere rural trading post in comparison. Only three days after sighting land, Sparrow spotted a merchant 'Barq'. A good ship to plunder on account of its cumbersome shape. I had already learnt that the Pearl was a Galleon, heavily armed and unusual for a pirate ship. Most pirates had small ships that had little firepower, but were easily movable.  
  
I stood on the deck, watching as the ship grew closer. Sparrow had ordered the pirate colours to be flown and the sight of that strip of black, fluttering in the wind high above my head filled me with dread.  
  
"Alright, yer scavernous dogs!" Sparrow strode the deck like a general preparing his troops for battle. "Swords, pistols and grapples at the ready! Take whatever cargo ye find, an' be in an' out as quick as yer can." He held his sword high in the air. "Attack." He brought his sword down with a heavy stroke and the ship shuddered as we let out a broadside of cannonfire onto the barq. It tilted towards us at the crew flew across in a flurry of grappling hooks and weapons, glinting in the sunrise.  
  
Across on the deck of the other ship I could here the outraged shouts of the merchant crew and the angry battle cries of the pirates. Anamaria was the first to return, her face and coat splattered with blood and her left eye swollen and bruised. She carried a large, plain chest. With a flick of her sodden hair she threw the trunk down on the deck and made short work of the lock with a blow from her cutlass. Kneeling almost reverently she opened the lid. Inside were several bolts of silk, brightly coloured, but almost falling to pieces. As Anamaria lifted out a roll, a small insect stirred and fluttered out of the chest.  
  
"Moths. Shit."  
  
I stood opposite her, unsure how to reply. She looked up, squinting at the fast-rising sun, as the other crew began to return, carrying similar looking trunks.  
  
"Right," Duncan, a broad-chested Irishman strode across the deck. "Lets get these bastards open, shouldn't take but a minute – they're shoddy pieces of work." Duncan was the ships carpenter, and passionate about his work. As he unhooked the axe he perpetually carried about his waist, Anamaria stepped forward, almost comically small against his huge frame.  
  
"I'm the quatermas'er 'ere my boy an' I'll say when we open the chests." "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd have to take orders from some bloody woman." He muttered in his thick accent, though I noticed he stepped back sharply. Jack was the last man to return from the ship, a sly grin on his face.  
  
"Well done lads – to the rum!" Was all he said before he staggered below deck. I followed him – the stench of blood and sweat on deck was overpowering.  
  
I stepped carefully down the narrow staircase, my eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness, I made to pass through Sparrow's room quickly, then I noticed him sitting at his battered desk, slumped down, eyes glazed over.  
  
"Mister Sparrow!" I ran to the prone figure, I confess I almost thought him dead.  
  
"Captain." He sat up swiftly. "'Ello love."  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Fine, fine." He turned and winced "Could do wiv' a lit'le 'elp wiv' this arm, though." I glanced down, his left arm hung helplessly by his side. "Dislocated, ain't it? I need yer to pull it back in."  
  
"What?" I stuttered  
  
"It's easy – but I can't do it meself, savvy?" Using his good arm he took hold of my hands and placed the limp limb in them. "Jest pull 'ard as yer can, then bring it upwards till yer 'ear it click."  
  
I shuddered as he stood up and leant towards me - his lifeless arm made my skin crawl. I suppose I must have looked very foolish to Sparrow, shivering and stuttering over what he saw as an easy task. I tried to get a grip on the arm, but failed. I gave it a gentle tug, but Sparrow only pulled away and winced in pain. I stared at him, helpless.  
  
"Bloody 'ell, will you jest do it!" He snapped suddenly and his words shocked me so that I brought the arm up and heard the click before I had time to think.  
  
"Jesus," He continued, moving his arm gently "Were that so bloody 'ard?"  
  
I began to cry. I felt so ashamed, I knew sailors expected women on ships to be tough, but damn it – I wasn't some female pirate with a hard life of lessons behind me. I was a lady trained in dancing, sewing and playing the pianoforte! I sank into the chair, embarrassed and miserable.  
  
"Oh, no, no, no." Sparrow was kneeling at my side in a second. Gesticulating wildly in his drunken manner. "Don't cry, shush, shush. Come along Cathy." I looked up, stunned out of my tears by his easy use of my first name. His eyes seemed full of concern. I noticed his arm was draped over my shoulder, his sleeve was tattered and the skin underneath seemed cut and bruised. His face was close to mine, I could smell blood and unwashed body; I caught his eye for a second, then looked away. His intimacy was unnerving.  
  
"Captain Sparrow, I will thank you to keep your hands off me." I had indented to snap angrily, but the words came out watery and unsteady.  
  
He laughed, and in a second that intimacy was gone. He stood hurriedly.  
  
"'Ave it yer way then Miss. Barbrook." He strode over to a chest of drawers and began rooting around, leaving me sat, sniffing and pathetic. He pulled out a roll of linen, several bottles and a pair of what looked like metal pincers "I've got me wounds to attent to an' I certainly wouldn't want to upset yer sensibilities by doing it in front of you." His grin was brief and cold – had this been another man, I would have believed his feelings had been hurt.  
  
He sat beside me at the desk, and set to his bloodied arm with the pincers, squinting in the dim light of the oil lamp.  
  
"What are you doing?" I asked, edging away from the gory sight.  
  
"Getting the shot outta me arm." His words were crisp and even. Not wanting to leave, I watched with a kind of horror as the tears dried on my face. It was hard work; 'shot' I learnt, were tiny particles of gunpowder and bullet; and they were embedded in the flesh of Sparrow's arm. Every pinch of the tweezers forced a gasp from Sparrow, and the occasional oath, calling for rum. After a while he seemed to give up and began to dress the wound with the linen. He was just tying the final knot when Gibbs entered.  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon Jack, but the crew wanna speak to yer."  
  
****  
  
We have over twenty crates of spices, thirty rolls of silk and the ivory from forty elephants!" He shouted triumphantly. There was a cheer and Sparrow stood proudly, resting one hand on the wheel of the ship. But through the cheers one crewmember called:  
  
"Whot about the gold, Jack?" And others took up the cry  
  
"Yeah, we were promised gold."  
  
"Whot good's spices to us?"  
  
Sparrow looked taken aback, he walked forward unsteadily, holding his hands up to try and silence his crew.  
  
"Mates, are we not sailing fer the Gold Coast?" He asked, pointing ahead of the Pearls' prow to the land, encased in mist. "An' there we'll get all the bloody gold yer scavinous sea-dogs could poss'bly want; savvy?"  
  
This seemed to satisfy the crew and another cheer went up.  
  
"Rum all round!" Called out Gibbs from the rear of the crowd. Sparrow caught the boatswain's eye and I noticed a concerned look pass between the two men. 


	5. Chpt 5

"There's what we've been waitin' fer, my men!" Sparrow called, his already unsteady rumble further slurred by drink. I was sitting at a table with Anamaria in the belly of the ship. It was evening, the next morning we were to harbour in the town of Accra – made fat with gold by slave trading.  
  
"Whole rooms, no, no, wait" Sparrow stood up, sloshing rum from the bottle he held in his hand "Whole buildings full of gold! Doubloons, Pieces of eight, jewellery, crowns – more than yer could imagine." I watched him through the only sober eyes in the room and wondered if he was convincing himself as much as the crew.  
  
Below us, in the hold was the cargo of the merchant ship, moth-eaten silk and mouldering spices. But the crew were none the wiser of this. Anamaria had gone down with me to inspect the cargo earlier in the day. While she sorted through the pitiful haul, she let me in on Sparrow's true plans for Accra.  
  
****  
  
"We're gonna pose as merchants. Jack will convince a rich toff to let 'im and 'is sister stay a night at his house and when dark falls 'e'll sneak about the house and take all the gold's to be 'ad." I snorted.  
  
"Rather complicated, for a pirate." I sneered. Anamaria snorted and replied.  
  
"Aye, well if there's ever been a man with a flair fer the dramatic, then it's Jack." She grimaced as a rotten length disintegrated in her hand. "God ferbid 'e do sumfing simply."  
  
I will admit the man was a complete mystery to me. Seemingly cold and heartless, yet also elaborate and dramatic. Some days he would be intolerably cruel to me, others almost friendly but mostly would ignore me altogether. I began to wonder what good I was to him, why had he brought me on his ship?  
  
I learnt why the next morning.  
  
"I won't do it!" I stamped my foot on the floor, crossed my arms and looked that despicable pirate firmly in the eye.  
  
He moved around me like a snake, pleading and coaxing in that oddly elegant voice. "Oh, come along Miss. Barbrook. It'll be nothing; a few smiles, a few curtsies and couple of noncey words and we'll be off." He looked beguilingly at me with his dark eyes, hands pressed together as if in prayer.  
  
"You." I shot him an icy glare "Want me to pose as your sister, lie to respectable Christian merchants, eat their food and sleep on their bed while you steal their gold?" "Yes." He spoke; as if relieved, bending his pressed hands forward to me. "I'm glad you understand."  
  
"Well why me, why bother dragging me all this way when Anamaria would have done the job just as well."  
  
"Problem there love," Sparrow spoke slowly, as if talking to an imbecile "Is that me an' Ana ain't exactly got much family resemblance, if you get me meanin'. Besides – we need a woman of breedin' to be confincin', like, savvy?" This time it was from Anamaria he received an icy glare.  
  
"You are contemptible, Sparrow. I won't do it."  
  
"Cathy," Anamaria cut in, exasperated "yer don't understand, we need to pull this off. Any more bad luck an the crew'll mutiny fer sure!"  
  
"Shut up Ana." Sparrow snapped, and turned to me again. "Well?"  
  
I shook my head; this was too much, even from him!  
  
"Bloody 'ell." He spoke with a sigh and pulled his pistol from his belt, pulled back the flintlock and pressed the barrel to my forehead. "Do I 'ave to say please?"  
  
I froze  
  
"I'll do it." Sparrow smiled, and moved the gun away.  
  
"I'm glad we 'ave an accord."  
  
"You've been planning this since you first got me on board." I looked accusingly at him, but as people always seemed to do on this ship, he just laughed.  
  
"Why does everyone allus think the worst of me?"  
  
We set off an hour later, arm in arm down the seafront of Accra. I had to admit Sparrow looked almost decent. His hair had been rid of all the strange beads and medallions that had previously adorned it and was tied back neatly from his face. Gone were the ridiculous plaited beard, the oversized rings and the hoops in his ears. His clothes had been washed and he carried no visible weapons. Even the exaggerated swagger, which looked like drunkenness in a pirate, could be passed of as aristocratic arrogance.  
  
He even smelled better; I detected a faint odour of eu de cologne, and wondered where a villain like himself would pick up habits like that.  
  
In comparison to this dashing figure, I knew I must have looked a fright. Three weeks on the Black Pearl hand shredded the lace of my dress, the silk was stained from salt water and sweat. My many layers of petticoats had been removed early on in the voyage – they soaked up the water on deck dreadfully. My dainty suede boots were scuffed and stained beyond repair and only my bonnet - hidden under my bunk the night of my arrival – looked decent. I'll admit I was more worried about me passing for a lady than Sparrow as a gentleman.  
  
"Good day my good man." Sparrow strode up to a smarmy looking young clerk and spoke in a surprisingly refined accent; all his usual cockney swagger was gone. "I need to speak to whoever is in charge here."  
  
"That would be Mr. Smyth there, sir." The youth replied in a piercing nasal voice. "He knows every bit of trade that is carried out in this port, and be sure he makes money from in all in one shape or another."  
  
"Ahhh." I saw Sparrow's eyes light up. "That would be the man I need." And away he strode once more, dragging me by the elbow. Soon we came across a powerfully built man, tall but wide also; dressed in dark velvets and a wig than spilled over his shoulders in a froth of powdered curls.  
  
"Mr. Smyth." Again, that respectable voice. "I have a fine cargo of spices, ivory and silk I wish to trade and I hear you're the only man to speak to." I saw at once Sparrow had appealed to Mr. Smyth's high opinion of himself and would get on smoothly from here on in. I recognised his type, from dinners with Daddy's friends. They believe they are the ultimate political thinkers, because the can direct tiny boats full of assorted rubbish from one shore to another.  
  
"Yes, Mr?"  
  
"Captain" Sparrow cut in quickly, and I saw another man's high self-esteem at work.  
  
"Captain Barbrook, my good man."  
  
"Ah, yes Barbrook I recognise the name; well, where's this cargo?"  
  
"I would not dream of dragging you across the docks to my humble ship. If you will permit me I will sent my sister to retrieve a sample of the fine goods I have to offer." Sparrow touched my arm, it must have appeared light, but I could feel his nails digging in "Catherine, would you be so kind? Hurry back, mind."  
  
"Yes brother dearest." I hissed through clenched teeth, and wrenching my arm from his grip, set off the way we came.  
  
"You will have to excuse her." I heard Sparrow say to Mr. Smyth, as I left "Women don't have the constitution for long voyages."  
  
Making my way back the Pearl a hundred thoughts flashed through my mind. Here was my chance! I might slip away at any moment, board a ship and be free of that infernal Sparrow forever! My mind was so full with escape plans I did not notice I was back at the Pearl until I stood nearly on top of her. I stopped short, and my face fell as I looked over the dark bulk of the ship. I realised if I escaped now I would never see Anamaria again. The crew would never get their gold. I had heard Gibbs planning to set up a shop with his share of the treasure, many had families they wanted to send money to, wives and children who still thought their father was an honest merchant or sailor. Was I really about to dash all their hopes? Leave them stranded?  
  
And angry – I remembered Anamaria mention of mutiny. All my life I had heard dreadful things pirates were capable of – to each other as well as victims. Sparrow was a liar, a thief and a crude man, but could I really escape knowing his death would be on my conscience?  
  
Looking at the now familiar curves and angles of the Black Pearl I knew I had made my choice. But staggering back to Sparrow under the weight of a chest filled with two unharmed bolts of silk and some ivory trinkets, salvaged from the disaster of a raid, I felt a fool and a coward.  
  
I finally spotted my 'brother' at a table outside a tavern. Sparrow had a dram of rum in his hand, even though it could barely be past midday. I pushed my way to the tavern and dropped the chest onto the table, causing Sparrow's rum to tip onto his lap.  
  
"Oh, Sorry Jack." I gave him a warm smile, which he repaid with a frown. "But here is what you wanted."  
  
"Thank you Catherine, would you care to join us?"  
  
I sat by Sparrow and listened idly to the two men barter over quality and price. It was so like the dinners with Daddy's merchants at home, those had been as boring and edious as this, but I thought of how I may never see my dear Daddy again, never hear his voice or see that wry smile he would cast Mummy and I whenever a good deal had been struck. I picked at the loose threads in my gloves and hung my head – praying Mr. Smyth wouldn't see my tears and the game would be up.  
  
I needn't have worried; Sparrow had completely charmed Mr. Smyth and, I will admit, me also. But the end of the day the change in him was so absolute the rough pirate seemed a different person to this charming man. As Jack had planned, when we confessed we had nowhere to lodge, Mr. Smyth wouldn't hear of us spending another night on the ship, but invited us to stay the night at his house. Here we met his wife and two sons aged four and two. His wife, Maud, was a dear woman who couldn't have been much older then me. Mr. Smyth, who looked nearly fifty, slipped lower in my opinion. Maud listened to my much censored account of the voyage to Africa and was even kind enough to offer to lend me one her dresses, as mine was so tattered. When I thought of how I was to trick her and her husband I could hardly bear it. She was such a good, simple, kind person and Sparrow and his crew were so devious. But I held fast to my decision, kissed my dear new friend warmly on the cheek and went up to bed. Sparrow had told me to wait there for further instructions, but the warmth and comfort of being in a feather bed for the first time in nearly a month, with a warming pan and thick blankets, was too much for me. I believe I was fairly asleep before me head even hit the pillow.  
  
The next thing I knew, I was being roughly shaken by Sparrow.  
  
"Wake up, damn you!" He hissed in my ear.  
  
"What?" I replied, my voice thick with sleep  
  
"We 'ave to go, out the window - quickly. 'arry an' Sim are outside wiv' the gold, but the butler saw 'em an' we 'aven't time to waste."  
  
As he spoke I stumbled out of bed, and up to the window without thinking, but as I looked out to the two-story drop, I pulled back suddenly.  
  
"I can't climb down there!" I whispered  
  
"Yes yer can, look." In a flash Sparrow was out the window and gripping the trellis, holding his hand out to me. "Come on!"  
  
Lifting up my skirts, I stepped cautiously onto the sill, But this was still too slow for my companion and he had grabbed my arm and fairly carried me down the trellis before I could draw breath. There was no time once we got to ground either. Shouts could be heard from the house.  
  
"Come on!" Sparrow urged again and we were flying across the lawn towards the high wall. My bare feet thudded wetly against the sodden lawn; the dew had already fallen. I stumbled over my skirts and in my bouncing scope of vision the wall looked no closer.  
  
But Sparrow gripped fast to my hand (I wondered whom he was trying to comfort) and presently we reached the wall, like the house it was covered with ivy and a wooden trellis and Sparrow had clambered up in a second. I followed, clumsy with my cumbersome dress. As I reached the top, I lost my footing, and fell the six feet to the ground below. In a minute Sparrow was beside me, helping me up, but I groaned in pain – my ankle would not take my weight.  
  
"There's no time, jest run." He implored me. And for a time I stumbled behind him, but my ankle was so painful that soon I fell again.  
  
Sparrow turned, and made to help me up again, the pain made me mad and I pushed him away.  
  
"Leave me will you? I can't run another minute."  
  
"Oh, bloody hell, you cowerin' whelp." He cursed me with clenched teeth, then slipped his arm under mine and in a second was running again with me scooped up in his arms.  
  
The indignity! Carried through the streets of the settlement by a pirate! 


	6. Chpt 6

The carriage ride up to Mr. Smyth's house had taken just over ten minutes, yet our dash, downhill through the streets felt like hours. Finally we reached the Pearl, where Anamaria and Gibbs were waiting to let us aboard. After that all we could do was wait for Harry and Sim to return with the booty.  
  
It had been two hours, the moon was growing low in the sky and streaks of grey were appearing in the east. Yet there was no sign of either of the men. We all knew what had happened, but still the four of us stood on the deck – cold without the African sun, watching and waiting in silence. I listened to the crew stir below deck and I knew my three companions were wondering what they would do when the found out we were without gold.  
  
"We can't tell 'em" It was Anamaria that broke the silence, still staring ahead.  
  
"I know." Sparrow replied, and he leaned further against the edge of the ship, head in his hands.  
  
"Jack," I spoke softly, meaning to comfort the poor man, "I'm sure it wi..."  
  
"Shut you trap, you scurvy bitch." He snapped before I could finish. "Or I'll 'old you to ransom to dear daddy to get my gold."  
  
I stood up straight, I had helped this man when I could have run, trusted him with my life, near enough. God help me, I'd even begun to... and this is how he repays me!  
  
"Well, I wish you would, if that is your intention Captain Sparrow!" I replied icily "My father, being an honest and caring man would pay and I would be home, away from you and therefor – happy!" I caught his despairing eyes for one piercing glance and turned to return to my cabin.  
  
Unfortunately, I had forgotten about my ankle, and had not walked two steps before I had collapsed with the pain. Sparrow raised his eyebrows and smirked as he beheld me prostrate on the deck, but then his eyes rose to meet the misty shore of the Slave Coast – just visible over the horizon.  
  
"No need fer 'aste Miss. Barbrook." He muttered half to himself as he stroked his greasy moustache. "I've jest thought of a better 'ostage."  
  
****  
  
"No, absolutely not!" I was surprised to here Anamaria speak out against Sparrow "I won't see it done Sparrow, you do it an' yer no better than 'em which is less than I expect of you." She fumed and, despite the pain of my ankle, I smiled to see Sparrow looking at a loss.  
  
"Whots the problem Ana? We go ashore, swipe a 'undred or so of the blighters an' refuse to give 'em back until we're given our money."  
  
The smile was removed from my face as I saw Anamaria draw her sword. I could not imagine her carrying one if she was any less of a swordsman than she was a sailor. Sparrow's hand flew to his hilt, but I saw him throw an imploring look at Anamaria.  
  
"You listen to me, yer scurvy, dirty low-down sea dog." She spoke lowly and evenly, with a voice dripping with malice. "Slaves are people, they are not cargo. Any one of them could be my mother, father, brother or sister for all you white folks know or care." With this, she aimed a thrust at Sparrow's stomach. I was amazed to see her so riled; that blow was no warning and if Sparrow had not warded it off so quickly, I believe the crew would have to captain left to mutiny against.  
  
"Whots all this 'white folks'?" Sparrow replied, as he warded of Anamaria's blows "We're pirates, whotever the colour of our skin, you know that more than any man aboard." He saw Anamaria let her guard down, and deftly flicked her sword out of her hand. It fell with a clatter like thunder in the sudden silence.  
  
Anamaria and Sparrow stood, facing each other and looked to stare each other out until judgement day. I was standing next to Gibbs, leaning on the rails to take the weight off my ankle, I whispered to him:  
  
"Should we do something? The crew will be up any minute now."  
  
"Jest you wait Missy, there's forces at work 'ere an' we'd best not interfere." I shot Gibbs a confused look, but took his advice.  
  
A while later Anamaria turned away.  
  
"So when do we sail?" She spoke as if there had been no argument.  
  
"As soon as possible – wake the crew." Sparrow too, acted as if nothing was amiss, though a bare ten minutes ago this woman had tried to kill him. I watched them go their separate ways, to make ready the ship.  
  
"What was that..?" I began to ask Gibbs, until my ankle gave a twinge and he pain cut me off.  
  
"Ah, come wiv' me, matey. I'll fix that leg o' yers up an tell yer all about it."  
  
I sat in the tiny cabin below the galley, which Gibbs shared with the master gunner and the carpenter. It was smaller than my cabin, being situated at the bow of the ship, and there were no windows, but with the lantern alight it was quite cosy – if you ignored the smell. Gibb's knelled before me, talking as he applied a poultice to my leg, and wrapped linen about it.  
  
"Ana and Jack first met long afore I knew 'im, on a ship out in the Caribbean. Jack was only a boy and 'ad never been on a ship afore in 'is life. Ana had been born on one; 'er mother was a slave transported from Africa to work on the sugar plantations in the British colonies. Ana's mother gave 'er away to a first mate she 'ad fallen in wiv' and Ana was brought up on the ship, and treated as somethin' of a pet by the crewmembers. But by the time Jack came aboard as a cabin boy, she was jest old enough fer the crew to 'ave other views towards 'er. So they escaped together an' made their way to Tortuga, where they planned to become the most fearsome pirates of the Caribbean. An' they pretty much were fer a while, though they were only young – Ana taught Jack everything she knew about sailin', which is more than I'll ever know. But after a while, when both were well into their teens." Gibbs looked up for a moment then, I was transfixed on his every word – it was like all the adventure stories I had mocked at home rolled into one – only interesting because it was real, not the vain fantasies of some foppish clerk.  
  
"Go on." I urged him  
  
"Well," He hesitated, but continued "Like I say, it was a day like any other and the two were in Tortuga, taking a respite after their latest voyage. Anamaria, I believe, were in a delicate condition."  
  
"But she wasn't married!" I cut in shocked, Gibbs ignored my protest and continued.  
  
"This day she 'ad decided to tell Jack an' ask 'im to be 'er 'usband, but afore she could find 'im, Jack 'ad been led astray by a Woman of Tortuga an' Anamaria found 'em together in their lodgin's that evenin'. So Ana ran away, and found a doctor who'd get rid of the baby – Jack never knew he could 'ave been a father to 'er child. She still loves 'im; God 'elp 'er, but that were too long ago fer Jack to keep 'is torch burnin' fer 'er. Yet they still 'ave a bond which, to my mind, is closer than that of any married couple."  
  
"My goodness," I breathed "But why is she his Quartermaster on the Pearl?" Here Gibbs laughed.  
  
"'Cause she's the best damn sailor in the Caribbean – that's why matey!" He patted my leg "Well, walk easy on that thing fer a week or too and yer'll be right as rain."  
  
We reached the Slave Coast that evening, and the crime was committed under the cover of night. What occurred on that shore I cannot tell you, as I stayed on board, shaken after last night's escape. But as the dawn began to crawl up above the ocean, Sparrow and the crew returned with a great crowd of slaves.  
  
Their skin was darker than Anamaria's, almost blue-black, they looked horribly thin and maltreated. Some were covered with bruises, most had their heads shaved and all wore ripped and faded clothes. The crew ushered then aboard and led them down below deck. They went so quietly that, despite their ragged condition they looked almost noble.  
  
Anamaria sat with me in the galley – she too hadn't gone ashore. She uttered some oath to herself in a foreign tongue; she shook her head. "Oh Jack." I heard her mutter sadly.  
  
Sparrow planned that it would take the slave traders on shore only a few days to resolve to give the pirates the money they asked for, in a letter sent by Sparrow himself. Anamaria, as well as detesting the plan, doubted if it would even work, she ascertained that no slave trader would think the slaves worth what Sparrow would ask and would not go to the trouble of getting them back.  
  
We waited for two days, anchored a way offshore from the Slave Coast. It as an unbearable time, the sun beat down on us and supplies were low. Every time a sailor was sent down below to fetch water, they would come back shaking with tales of the slaves singing strange chants. Anamaria cursed their foolishness and it was her alone who brought food and water to the slaves during that time. As well as superstitions about the slaves, there was the more earthly fear that the slave traders would not bargain with the Pearl, and instead send the Navy on our tail. The crew begged to make anchor in a more hidden spot, not out in the open sea where anyone could spot them.  
  
Sparrow shrugged off their fears however, pointing out they must be where the slave traders could find them easily when they did wish to bargain. The crew agreed to this grudgingly, but Sparrows authority as Captain was sorely pushed during this time. The nervous atmosphere on his ship must have affected him, but if it did, he showed no sign. Soon after returning to the Pearl, he had replaced his odd ornaments, let his hair hang in matted locks about his head and kholed his eyes with more vigour than ever before and quickly became every inch the pirate captain. All day he would stand at the bow of the ship, up on the forecastle, watching the shore with unblinking eyes. It was at this time I first began to see where Sparrow's strength lay. Though a good fighter and a strong man, Sparrow was more like a weasel than a wolf. He would not attack unprovoked, but would insinuate his way into a situation and dislodge what he wanted. It was a strength far removed from the bellowing, blustering ways of my father and the weapon wielding of the crew. It was not a strength I admired, you could not admire it, it was too dark, too deep and twisted. But despite myself, I could not help but feel a grudging kind of respect for Sparrow, as he stood alone on the forecastle while chaos reigned beneath him.  
  
This unease on the ship couldn't last, and though I mostly kept to my cabin during this awful waiting, I could feel the tension onboard winding up, like clockwork – steely and inevitable. 


	7. Chpt 7

On the morning of the third day the mutiny broke out.  
  
I was barely awake when I heard shouts through the thin wall between my cabin and the crew's quarters. My first thought was that they had grown tired of waiting and were planning to break into the chest where the cutlasses and pistols were kept and force Sparrow off the Pearl.  
  
You will be able to understand the measure of my fear, I think, if I tell you I immediately jumped out of my bed and ran to Sparrow's adjoining cabin without even throwing the bedcovers over my petticoats. Sparrow was not asleep however, but standing at his window, looking out to the harbour, its ships just in sight over the horizon.  
  
"Mr. Sparrow!" I hissed urgently, not wanting to disturb him, he looked rather fierce.  
  
"Captain" He proclaimed, not turning, but swinging his arm up in a characteristically affluent gesture as he spoke.  
  
"But, can't you hear?" I trailed off, fearing for the captain's sanity.  
  
"What?" He suddenly turned; the kohl he wore was smudged round his eyes, his normally tanned face ashen and his hands trembling.  
  
"Captain, there's noise next door, I grew afraid..." My voice trailed off, as I realised how childish I sounded. I hated myself for coming to warn him. I turned to leave, just as a sharp scream, trailing into a hideous, blood-soaked gurgle, filled the air.  
  
"Oh, bloody 'ell." Sparrow spoke as he made towards his door, grabbing his weapons as he went. "Come on!" He called back to me as he started up the stairs.  
  
He never reached the top, half way up stood a slave, he was tall and broad and seemed to fill the staircase. He delivered a swift and powerful punch to Sparrow, who immediately fell back on me, pinning me down under his weight.  
  
I believe I must have hit my head as I fell, as I remember nothing more of that day.  
  
When I awoke, it was in a dark and foul-smelling place. Not knowing what else to do, I stayed put and gradually my eyes became accustomed to the dim light and I could see I was below deck, in the brig. As I began to see clearer, I saw the whole crew was here as well. Though the cells were not small, we had a crew of twenty men and I wondered how long we were to stay here. Anamaria sat on a bench, across the cell and I made my way towards her, to find out how we had ended up here.  
  
****  
  
It was the slaves, and not the crew that had mutinied. They had a mind to sail to the Caribbean to join their families and then return to their homeland free men. What they planned to do with us, no one could say, but for the time being, they seemed content to leave us in the brig and bring us food and water when it suited them.  
  
I will not dwell on our time spent in the brig, as even now it is painful to remember. I had thought the time waiting for word from the slave traders was tense, but it was naught compared to the weeks we spent locked in the two small cells that made up the Pearl's brig. The crew, at first were as angry as caged tigers. Sparrow was beaten to a pulp, and lay for many days, unmoving; his face caked in dry blood. He made no retaliation, indeed he seemed to have given up all hope, and I was mighty glad the crew had no weapons or I believe there would have been a dead body in the brig before long.  
  
For myself, that cell may as well have been hell, so dark and far away from salvation it seemed. Though I had never warmed to conditions on the Pearl, before now I had always had my own cabin to retreat into to. I had not realised how much I valued my own space until it was taken from me. The seven people in our cell had no privacy from one another. We had one bucket for personal use, and the slaves would empty it only when we begged them. We were brought no water to wash with, and in the stuffy heat below deck the smell soon became unbearable. My ankle healed slowly and caused me much pain, the dress given to me by Mr. Smyth's wife, dear Maud, became tattered and filthy, the bows fell off and the lace drooped. Most dreadfully for me, my monthly curse arrived during this time, and strips of my petticoats were sacrificed to a modicum of hygiene. You will forgive me for being so crude, but I feel I must convey how bad things were for us.  
  
After the first initial shock and revulsion they days began to blend together into one grey stretch of misery. We could count the passage of time only by means of a single porthole, imbedded in the hull opposite our cells. Four weeks had gone by, I cannot tell you know how any of us bared it. By this point the crew had lost all their venom, they were silent. There was no talk of escaping, or what would happen when we reached the end of our voyage - the brig became our whole world. However, as the weeks passed by, four, then five, hope became to gleam in our eyes - surely we were reaching home now?  
  
Another week passed, making six in all and the sailors began to wonder why we had not reached shore yet. There had been no storms and even by a very conservative outlook we should have been upon Caribbean seas by now.  
  
"Hey!" Anamaria called to the slave, as he prepared to leave, having deposited pan of foul-smelling stew with us. He turned apon hearing her native accent. She began talking in a language we couldn't understand. It seemed to me Anamaria was asking questions but the slave was unwilling to reply. Gradually she got him to speak, yet didn't seem pleased with what he said. She shouted at him and I wondered that she wasn't afraid of him striking her. Yet he simply hung his head and left.  
  
The crew then gathered round her, eager for information. "What did 'e say?"  
  
"Are we near 'home?"  
  
"Whot's takin' so long?"  
  
Anamaria clasped her hands together and looked small and miserable in the cramped cell, burly sailors crowded round her. Her face was sad as she prepared to speak.  
  
"We are lost." She ignored the shouts that arose, and continued. "They cannot sail and they have been headin' out wiv' no sign of land. Appar'ntly it has been getting' much colder. I believe they 'ave steered us too far north." Here she paused "I believe if they continue on this course we'll come across the ice fields and they'll not be able to steer us out of 'em." These words meant nothing to me, but judging by the crew's reaction, we were in some great danger. They began to talk nervously amongst themselves. I sat upon the edge of the narrow bench that served as a bed, Anamaria collapsing next to me.  
  
"Stupid, stupid landlovin' dogs." I heard her hiss, as she pounded her fists on her knees, sharp and bony through poor diet "What a shambles, 'as slavery turned 'em soft! If they could only work wiv' us, we could of all been outta 'ere an' be safely 'ome." She hissed and beat her fists with such violence that I became quite afraid. "Bastards!" thump "Stinking," thump "filthy," thump "Bastards!" Tears began to drip from her eyes and make a slow path down her grimy cheek. I shakily put my arm about her shoulders – now heaving with sobs and comforted her as well as I knew how as the last red streaks of the sunset disappeared from the tiny porthole. 


	8. Chpt 8

The next morning I awoke while the light was still dim and grey to the sound of a faint scratching. In shadows of the next cell I saw a figure crouched over the doors, hands moving furiously.  
  
"Captain Sparrow?" I asked hesitantly, for he had been unnoticed for a while now, tending his wounds best he could in the corners of the cell. Face pale, hair lank but eyes glinting over his work he looked like some evil imp. I crept towards him, picking my way over the sleeping crew.  
  
"Nearly done." His voice had its usual swagger, but was low and cracked from disuse. I looked over to see what he was about. I saw the fine pile of metal shavings on the floor before I realised – a file!  
  
"That bastard Cannonball 'ad one all along. Don't know when he were figurin' on usin' it, but I got bored o' waitin'." He spoke without looking up, and continued the filing. In the faint light I could see the metal of the bars curling away from Sparrow's file. With a sickening sense of dramatic timing, the first ray of sun shot through our tiny porthole just in time for the faint clunk and clang of the bar falling away to wake the crew.  
  
Jacks hand, pale from lack of sun and thin as a girls, bent the lock mechanism away from the door with surprising strength. The door opened with a creak and Sparrow stepped smartly out – already regaining his arrogant swagger.  
  
"You first, me lady." He held his hand out to me, bowing low and I was reminded of the gentleman he briefly became on our short stay in Africa. I took his hand and fairly staggered from the cell, the relief was unbelievable.  
  
The crew were now wide awake, but it was clear many still thought they were dreaming and there was a brief scuffle over who was to get out of the cell first. The other cell was quickly opened and soon Sparrow had his crew standing before him. With his sword, luckily found hanging nearby he was now much like his own self again. His speech was short, but powerful.  
  
"To arms, my men! We 'ave wallowed 'ere long enuff, lets take back our ship!" All at once these men, who had grown weak as kittens on the fare of prisoners, were roaring lions once again. They grabbed anything they could find; grappling hooks, marlinespikes and gully knives and fighting their way up the steep staircase that lead to the hatch.  
  
I was dragged along with them, though the crew had regained their strength quickly enough, I was still weak from my ordeal and had to will to fight against that ocean of strong arms and sturdy chests.  
  
The sun hung heavy and red in the morning sky, and many had to shade their eyes at the first glimpse of sunlight after so long. Even I could tell we were way off course, the air was tainted with frost and the wind was harsh. Most of the slaves were gathered round the wheel, several held navigation implements in their hands and all looked confused.  
  
"Attack men!" Came the cry from Sparrow, but the crew didn't need telling they were upon the group at the wheel in seconds, their makeshift weapons raised menacingly.  
  
The battle was brief but harsh, and I will not dwell on it. Though the slaves had the advantage of better diet and better weapons the crew were angry as baited bears and fought fiercely. Ten or twelve slaves had fallen and Cannonball Jeff had another hanging by the scruff of his neck overboard before one slave clambered heavily onto the rigging and shot his pistol twice. The scene on deck fell silent so quickly, I heard the shot fall, though I was half-hidden in the hatch still.  
  
"We surrender." The words were spoken with difficulty, formed by a mouth used to guttural, African words. Sparrow cleaned the blood from his knife, folded it and slipped it into his pocket in one smooth movement. I never even saw who he killed.  
  
"I'm listenin', mate." The man who had spoken looked like the leader of the slaves, he was tall and broad and a cutlass was lashed about his waist with a length of rope. At the sound of Sparrow's rough accent he looked at a loss, a stream of African poured from him as he carefully climbed down from the rigging.  
  
"He says..." Ana cut in, then stopped when she noticed the eye's of the whole crew hungrily apon her. Sparrow noticed also and quickly guided the slave and Ana past their eager audience and into his quarters.  
  
The rest of the day was not as pleasant as I had dreamed for my first hours of freedom. The dead bodies of the eleven slaves and three crewmembers who died in battle were cast overboard (not before any valuables had been removed from the bodies, I was sickened to see). Among the dead men was Butler, a rather stuffy old man who always wore a wig – he had been the ships surgeon and in the hours that followed he was sorely missed. There were many wounds to tend to. All that could be done was to clean out the blood and bind them with linen, which soon ran short and was replaced with the cleanest strips of material that could be found. My dress was deeply plundered for the purpose till it was more tattered and threadbare than ever. The only doctoring any of us could do then was with the remains of the rum stock. Sparrow, Anamaria and the slave remained below deck all day, and none of us dared disturb them.  
  
The deck grew quiet as evening drew in, however and I stood alone, not knowing where I belonged or what I should do. The air was clean and fresh after the dank brig, and as I watched the sunset, crisp and red in the cold sky I wondered for the first time in many long weeks what the future held for me. 


	9. Chpt 9

Sparrow made a deal with the slaves. We would sail them back to the Caribbean and give them save passage to Port Royal in Jamaica, where they hoped to find their families.  
  
There was still, unsurprisingly, uneasiness between the crew and the slaves. But we were now low on men after Harry and Sim's death in Africa and the men lost in battle and the slaves were mostly welcomed now peace had been made and they set about learning the rudimentary tasks of sailing. As I watched their slow progress I wondered that we hadn't sunk long ago, they knew less about shipwork than me!  
  
The real problem was the lack of food. The slaves had squandered most of our stores and now we had nothing but weevil-infested biscuits and rotten salt beef. No doubt the pirates and slaves were used to it, but I was not and I grew tired of squinting over my meal to pick out the foul maggoty weevils. Luckily this did not go on for long, though we were far north, the wind and season was on our side and we were able to make quick progress with a full sail down to the warmer climes of central America.  
  
****  
  
Five mornings after our escape from the brig, I awoke to the smell of palm trees, of warm wind carried over blue water – heavy with salt and the cry of gulls. I had not realised the air I had breathed everyday since my babyhood was so fragrant – but now I dragged open my narrow windows and drank it in like the elixir of life. With it, unfortunately, I drank in the smell of my unclean body, the dirt of the brig still on it these past days. I shut my windows firmly and turned – I was determined to bathe. I marched across the deck, to be met by Anamaria, almost skipping with joy.  
  
"We are but a few hours sail from the Bahamas, Cathy! An' to think, I once thought ne'r to see blue sky again!" She clasped my hands and we danced a jig about the deck, both of us grinning like fool. I rested on a rail – catching my breath and remembering my purpose.  
  
"Ana, you must help me" I began  
  
The crew laughed heartily as I toiled back and forth between the galley and my cabin, first dragging the pewter tub, then carrying endless jugs of water, as the boiled on the galley's spitting fire. But I held my head high, even at their taunts when I asked if any of them had any soap. In reply to their jokes I said;  
  
"I don't know why I ask, it is plain from the smell you have not." Ana, however, slipped me a small bar of goosefat soap as I passed, and though it was gritty with sand I was grateful.  
  
Though the tub was small, the water only lukewarm; despite all my toil and the soap soon crumbled I felt much like the Queen of Sheba. I scrubbed my whole body and my hair until I felt like a lizard who had removed his old skin. Then I stretched back, letting my legs hang over the edge of the tub. As I relaxed I heard the creaking of Sparrow's bed next door.  
  
"Jack Sparrow, you scurvy sea-dog!" I called, joyously using the worst pirate lingo I could muster. "You made me a promise, you, you weevil infested rat! And it is time you fulfilled it."  
  
"Oh bloody hell." I smirked at his annoyed tone and stepped out of my tub, the water almost black with dirt. Scrubbing myself with a coarse sheet, which I then pulled about me I called back.  
  
"You drunkard! Will you back out of our accord?" I stepped into his cabin, grinning as I flicked my wet hair out of my face.  
  
"Look, luv" He continued, then fell off the bed whilst reaching for his coat that hung on a hook beside it "Look, luv – whot you 'ave got to understand is the we – that's you too, as long as yer on me ship – are in a bit of a perdic'ment. Other promises 'ave been made, an' those dark blighters rather 'ave the upper 'and 'ere – bigger weapons an' all." He finally managed to get up, and between tying out various limbs in various parts of the coat before finally achieving a more modest state, he continued. "I'm dunno if yer noticed at any point over the last few weeks." Arm through hole in pocket "but those buggers can be rather fond of violence." Arm out of hole in pocket, ring stuck on button-hole. "And I'd rather 'ave them off me ship soon as I can." Ring flies off, under bed to search for it, he continues – voice muffled "Since you 'ave never suc'essfully locked me in the brig." Ring retrieved. "You" left arm of coat successfully conquered "Can wait till later." Coat on "Savvy?"  
  
My heart sunk somewhat, and I was suddenly aware of the brevity of my attire in front of this rogue.  
  
"Captain Sparrow," I began, pulling my sheet closer to me as Sparrow's eyes roamed about me and he took a step closer "Your personal safety does not interest me, all I want to know..." I was stopped mid-sentence by a callused hand placed sharply over my mouth.  
  
"All you need to know is that I will get you 'ome, Miss. Barbrook." His winked and pulled me close to him, I barely had time to notice that, this close, there was barely any difference in height between us before he leaned forward and kissed me. Firmly but without violence.  
  
I will not pretend that as a girl of seventeen I had never kissed a man before, but this sensation was totally different from that of polite pecks from merchant sailors or eager young members of the Royal Navy. His lips were warm and his moustache felt itchy below my nose. The idea of putting your tongue in anther person's mouth would never have occurred to me, but when he did it seemed natural. And then, how can I explain? My body took over the situation –responding to it a way my mind had not instructed it to. I leaned forward, and opened my mouth wider, and tentatively let my tongue explore his mouth. His breath was slightly sour, but there was also a musky taint to it that seemed to addle my senses. Presently he pulled away from me; I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. They met Sparrow's own intense gaze. We both pulled away hurriedly.  
  
"Sorry love," Sparrow began, unsteadily "I didn't mean..." But I did not let him finish. Lips tingling and cheeks glowing redder than beacons I ran from the room, shutting my own cabin door firmly behind me. Once alone, I felt more normal. The sun was shining through the window. Gritting my teeth I set about washing my dress – which was twice as dirty as me and three times harder to fit into the tub.  
  
Slowly the tingling sensation in my lips left, and my head no longer span. Every time I thought of Sparrow my stomach seemed to turn in my belly and sparks flew behind my eyes. What had this man done to me?  
  
As I took down my dress from the window where I had hung it to dry in the Caribbean sun I felt the thud and drag of the anchor being weighed and I dressed swiftly and made my way to deck, to discover what the orders were.  
  
****  
  
I felt like a new woman on deck – the light breeze lifted my hair and ruffled the still-damp folds of my dress. The crew were standing about in small groups, talking to the slaves in low voices. Their faces were mostly set in grim frowns and I wondered why they were not happier to see Caribbean seas again.  
  
Presently Jack strode out onto the deck – a newly-thick layer of kohl round his eyes. He cast me a brief, searching look which I avoided; cheeks burning. He then addressed the crew. Immediately there was a deadly hush on deck, several of the groups sprang apart, suddenly finding a piece of rigging to repair or a rope to secure.  
  
I noticed Cannonball Jeff's hand wander to the axe he carried at his waist and I felt a shiver go through me, what was afoot here?  
  
Jack seemed not to notice the uneasiness however. His orders were brief and simple – we were to travel to Jamaica under cover of darkness, the power of the English Navy was constantly increasing in Caribbean waters and no pirate could count on safe passage in full daylight. The day was to be spent making any repairs that were possible whist afloat and we were to lift anchor at sunset. 


	10. Chpt 10

In the growing dusk we caught sight of the northern coast of Jamaica, after swiftly passing through the Bahamas and the windward Passage without trouble and now their was only the Eastern coast of the island to navigate before we came across Port Royal. After a few false starts due to Navy ships patrolling the entrance to Kingston Harbour we anchored in a concealed bay.  
  
"To the boats my men!" Sparrow strode forward, but was pulled back sharply by two heavyset slaves. An embarrassed silence drew over the deck and I warily drew behind the safety of an upturned boat.  
  
"What's up lads?" he grinned uneasily, his gold tooth flashing in the midship lantern. Another slave pulled out his cutlass and at the sound of the sword being unsheathed Sparrow began to struggle "Let go of me, you bastards!" He kicked and writhed; feet completely off the deck. "We 'ad an accord, you double-crossing buggers. We 'ad an accord! 'Ave you cheating buggers never 'eard of the code?"  
  
"Stop them!" Anamaria Stepped out of the galley, calling to the crew scattered about the deck as she drew her own sword. "Whot's the matter with you, 'as the sun addled yer senses? Get those villans off 'im!"  
  
But no one moved. Anamaria came to a halt, a grim realisation taking over me as I observed the motionless crew. It was Cannonball Jeff who finally spoke up, grinning hideously and showing the gaps in his teeth.  
  
"The thing is, mate – we've 'ad a mighty 'ard time of it, last couple o' months and we can't 'elp but think that Sparrow's been the cause o' most of it. 'Im bein' the Capt'n an' all." The others quietly nodded in agreement, warily eyeing Anamaria's sword. "So when our mates 'ere offered us a share in 'is bounty if we 'anded Sparrow over to the authorities – well it's gold, which is more than we've seen fer a good stretch wiv' 'im now." Jeff finished with a flourish.  
  
"We're settin' sail t'moro, Ana – you can come wiv' us if yer like." A young sailor, Pedro spoke up. "Gibbs is comin'."  
  
Anamaria gripped her sword, her other hand hovering at her hip – where I knew she kept a pistol, since the mutiny. I held my breath, what would happen to me if Ana chose to join the crew – would I ever get home? She scanned the crowd that had gathered on deck – the crew with their vicious marlinespikes and pistols and the slaves with muscles rippling from years of hard labour on sugar plantations. I knew she was weighing up her chances and even I could see it was remote – there must have been over forty grown men – against one small woman, however skilled with a sword she may be.  
  
"Sorry Jack." She stepped to the side of Jeff, who beamed, and looked rather like a pig. Sparrow hung his head and would not meet her eye "Catherine, come 'ere." She held out her hand to me. I stared at her amazed as I stepped out from my hiding place; she loved him, surely? How could she do this? And the crew, he'd saved them, from that hell-hole of a brig and bargained with the slaves. I looked around at the men, stony faced but standing tall – none were ashamed of what they had done. I realised I knew them not, they were cold and cruel, like the lives they led and I dared not stand against them. I know what you must feel about of me at that point, but think on my situation. I had tasted Caribbean air and I longed for home; no Captain, however clever could give that to me locked in a cell.  
  
I watched as the slaves dragged Sparrow off into a boat and rowed ashore, his raving becoming fainter and fainter. My heart seemed to tighten as I watched the boat fade into the gloom. I felt short of breath and tears pricked at my eyes. I turned away as Anamaria took my hand. She had no tears but I felt her hand shake as it gripped hard on mine.  
  
****  
  
One slave returned before dawn broke, with a small chest. I did not care to see how much Sparrow's death had profited the crew and remained in my cabin. It was going to be a hot day, and I lay sweltering on my bunk; my head full of grief for Sparrow and uncertainty for my future. How was I to get home now? I could not trust the crew, even Anamaria; who betrayed the love of her life. I pulled myself up sharply – when had I ever been worried about love? It was a weak force compared to money, status or power. Yet I could not stop thinking about love, and honour and what was right. This was a time when I should have been thinking about making my escape and my mind was filled with fancy and frippery. As the sun rose and it's light poured into my cabin I realised whose escape I was planning.  
  
Cursing my weak mind, I quietly slipped to the deck, luckily the crew were all below; I could hear their arguments over the sharing of the gold – it seemed the price on Sparrow's head had been less than they thought. My hands shook as I un-battened a boat and I cursed each creak of the block and tackle which lowered the ship overboard. I climbed into the boat and let the lines out until I hit the water with a splash the crew couldn't have failed to hear. The dinner knife I had brought with me proved hopeless against the thick, damp rope and it sawed against them like Sparrow's file against the bars of the brig – and in my panic I felt it took just as long. Finally they broke and before I quite knew what I was doing I was dragging on the heavy oars and rowing steadily to the direction of Port Royal. 


	11. Chpt 11

By the time I reached the fort, it was nearing mid-morning and my tattered dress and face wet with sweat from rowing went unnoticed in the bustle of market day. The prison was easy to find – a heavy squat building built of hewn grey rocks and guarded by attentive looking Navy men in their red uniforms. I realised a daylight breakout would be impossible and I sauntered away, resolving to wait until nightfall.  
  
The day passed quickly, thought I had no coin with me by midday my belly gnawed at me so, that I traded in the silver pendant that had hung at my neck since birth for a hearty meal and a tankard of ale in one of the least shabby taverns. I believe the drink may have given me the courage I needed and as it warmed me I fancied myself a hero, no noblewoman or piratewoman but a loner calling for justice. And so my afternoon was spent in the alehouse, clasping the tankard tightly and planning.  
  
I set off at dusk, at first I was lost in the narrow, dusty streets but as the moon rose I found my way back to the main square and from there to the prison at the fort. The guards were still outside, but I watched from a secluded spot as they passed a bottle back and forth then gradually lent against the wall, eyes closed. I waited until their snores could be heard fully across the width of the square then I scuttled out and slipped past them, my bare feet made no sound on the smooth stones.  
  
I crept down some steps, which led me to a long room, a barred wall dividing one half into cells. I was grateful for my luck and crept along in the shadows, trying to see which cell Jack occupied.  
  
"Oi, oi Darlin'!" called a rough voice. I jumped, afearing it might be another guard, but it was simply a criminal in the nearest cell. They, at least, had spotted me.  
  
"Let us out, would yer luv!"  
  
"Come on poppet, make it wurth yer while!"  
  
The jeers and catcalls were too much, even pirates treated a lady better than this.  
  
"Shut your filthy mouths, you villainous pigs!" I hissed, stamping my foot on the straw-covered floor.  
  
"Cath?" Asked a timid, but lurching voice I had come to know so well. My heart gave a thump.  
  
"Jack!" I ran towards the sound of his voice.  
  
He was in the second cell from the end, alone. He sat in the corner, on a raised stone bench, hat in hand. I could see clean streaks down his filthy face where tears had fallen, but I mentioned them not.  
  
"Captain, I've come to get you out! Quickly."  
  
"Thought yer'd all given up on me" I stood and wiped his face briskly, before flashing me a wide grin. I began to shake the bars while he was talking, they were much sturdier than the cells on the Black Pearl and I could not see them giving way.  
  
"I can't shift them Jack." I said, unable to disguise the rising panic in my voice  
  
"Simmer down luv, I'm 'aving a thought." He raised his hand as if he was a priest giving mass. "Wot we need 'ere is sum leverage." I gave the man a strange look, had his short imprisonment driven him mad already?  
  
****  
  
Sparrow jumped out of the cell as the door toppled over with an almighty crash, sending up a roar from the other prisoners.  
  
"Buggery" Sparrow muttered under his breath as he grabbed his pistols, knife and coat from a peg opposite his cell "Step lively love, now we're up fer it." With another grin he cocked his pistol and sprinted up the stairs. Blocking my ears to the prisoners' calls, I followed. We met the guards at the top of the stairwell, Sparrow held his pistol steadily and I, moved by the knot of fear and excitement in my stomach picked up an empty brandy bottle and brandished it wildly.  
  
"Not so fast, my boy." Spoke up one guard, though his face was pink and he looked at least twenty years younger than Sparrow. "You've only got one gun and we've got two, so you'll be going back quietly."  
  
"Ahhh," Sparrow replied smoothly. "But which one of you fine men would like to wager on which one of yer I'll be aimin' for?" The dim pair glanced at each other and in their moment of hesitation Sparrow was off across the square. I was fast on his heels, throwing down the bottle with a satisfying smash at the guards' feet.  
  
The dash to the harbour soon dampened my spirits however; the guards gave chase – their shots fell short in the darkness, but I could hear the thud of their heavy boots in the empty streets. My lungs burnt and my feet bled, cut by the sharp gravel of the harbour paths. We reached the boat none to soon and Sparrow had me cowering down in the bilge water as he rowed swiftly away, couched low against the firing of the guards' rifles.  
  
When we got out of range of the guns Sparrow leaned back, relaxed and the knot in my stomach loosened, to be replaced by embarrassment.  
  
"Well, my lass" Sparrow drawled easily, as he lent back into a stroke of the oars. "Seems a bit o' yer prim an' properness washed off in that bath o' yers."  
  
"I just couldn't leave you to die – that is all, Captain. Although I have been forced to live among pirates I haven't yet begun to act like one."  
  
"Oh?" He replied mockingly "You noble ladies often steal boats and spring men from prisons do yer?" My cheeks burned despite the chill of the night, and I clasped my hands in the folds of my dress, unwilling to reply.  
  
Sparrow was rowing steadily towards the bay where the Black Pearl had been docked, but in the darkness we were having some trouble locating it.  
  
"I'm sure it was right by that rock." I spoke helplessly, squinting out into the inky night.  
  
"Yeah?" Sparrow's reply was sharp "Well gainin' a Capt'n ain't no good if yer loose the ship!"  
  
We searched for hours and as the sun rose, what I had been dreading became at once crystal clear – the Pearl was gone. I was left on a leaky boat, with no food and a pirate Captain, between the wide ocean and a town baying for our blood. I screwed up my eyes in the bright sunlight, but it was no good – a tear dripped miserably down my cheek.  
  
"Hey Cath, t'ain't yer fault." Sparrow spoke with a softer tone as he turned the boat about.  
  
"Where are we going?" I sniffed  
  
****  
  
"We're going to steal a ship?"  
  
"We're gonna commander a cutter. A cutter is not a ship – it is a miserable one-masted toy, but it won't be easily missed, or heavily manned and it's fast." I eyed the shabby boat with suspicion; huddled between two large Navy Galleys it looked tiny, dirty and pathetic. I crept along beside Sparrow, who had hastily disguised himself by washing off his kohl, tying his hair under his bandanna and pulling his hat down low. It was not effective, but it didn't have to be as the Navy thought he'd already left the town.  
  
"Stop footpaddin'." He hissed to me "The trick to this is to act like yer've a right to step aboard." And so he sauntered up the gangplank with me closely behind, kicked the plank down and removed the rope that held the cutter to the harbour with a swift swipe of his folding gully knife. Once aboard we encountered one frightened local fisherman with his young son. Sparrow held his knife open and ordered them quickly and quietly ashore, with a gold ring from his own finger as compensation.  
  
I raised an eyebrow at his humanity as we carefully manoeuvred out of the busy harbour.  
  
"Well," he muttered, rubbing the bare place on his finger "T'ain't no 'arm in playin' fair when yer can."  
  
An hour later I was desperately pulling on the rigging of the tiny fore and aft mainsails, finally putting my limited knowledge of sailing to use. Sparrow shouted orders briskly and I struggled to keep up, sweating under the midday sun.  
  
"How do you even know where they're going?"  
  
"With a chest of gold and a need for new crew members – there's only one place, love." Sparrow grinned as he leaned lazily over the helm. 


	12. Chpt 12

The sun set as we made our way through the windward passage and towards Hispaniola and up to Tortuga, not more than a lost hulk of rock beyond it's Northern coast.  
  
I had been set to watch the helm while Sparrow investigated what treasures the hold might yeld. From the sound of the shouts within I guessed he had found the poor fisherman's catch of coins.  
  
"Now I know I'm back in the Caribbean!" Sparrow crowed as he emerged holding three bottles of dark rum. "Will yer 'ave a drink wiv' me, love?"  
  
"No thank you." I replied coldly "And you shouldn't either – I can't control this thing on my own."  
  
"Yer've a lot to learn about Capt'n Jack Sparrow, Cathy, I can steer better drunk than sober." And with that he swept me aside and took over the helm as he uncorked the first bottle with reverence. "We rape, we pillage, we plunder and loot..." I heard him begin to sing as I retreated swiftly to the bow of the cutter.  
  
****  
  
As we ploughed steadily on, I closed my eyes and rested awhile, feeling the brisk wind the spray of the sea on my face. I must have drifted off because when I opened them again the sky was alight with stars. They were beautiful, wheeling through the night, I realised I had never paid them any mind at home, and I stared with the wonder of a newborn baby at those diamonds in the sky, far more beautiful than any of the jewels I had owned. I stood, leaning against the rail, dreamily staring upwards in the silence of the night.  
  
Out of this stillness came a noise that made me jump right out of my skin. It was Sparrow, a rum bottle in hand – leaving the helm and staggering drunkenly towards me.  
  
He stood next to me, leaning easily on the rails and took a deeps swig of his rum. For a while neither of us spoke, Sparrow's eyes seemed locked on the horizon. I looked back up at the sky, and tried to ignore him, but it was no use, I could hear the gentle clanging of the beads that adorned his hair and he radiated a drunken and slightly sour heat that jarred my stillness. Presently he spoke.  
  
"Beautiful, ain't it Cath?" His words were slurred, even more so than usual. I idly wondered how much he had drunk and made no attempt to reply. He continued without looking up, a rambling monologue I think he would have pursued even without my presence. "The sea an' the sky meetin' wiv'out a thing to break the line. There's many'ud call that loneliness, or des'olation but, makes me feel safe. A road wiv'out tolls or bridges or hills or paths – freedom Cath."  
  
"Freedom?" I said, also half to myself. To me, the sea seemed the most restrictive place on earth – nowhere to go apart from one side of the ship to the other, no escape other than those murky depths.  
  
"Freedom." He repeated firmly, and took a swig of rum, as if making a toast. "That's whot a ship is, y'know – not a mast an' a sail an' an keel – that's whot a ship needs. But whot a ship is, whot the Black Pearl really is," Here he paused and looked up – meeting my eye and holding my gaze – I was caught off guard and my eyes seemed locked before I could look away. "I've tried to tell women this a'fore. They don't understand Cath, none o'yer." To my horror, I heard his voice begin to crack and his eyes fill with tears. No man had ever cried in my presence before, no gentleman would have dared. I had grown up almost believing men didn't cry.  
  
"Oh, there Jack." I exclaimed hurriedly. "You mustn't cry. I'm sure I, you mustn't." I searched my head for something to comfort him. "I sure many people don't understand each other. Why when you came out here I was looking at the sky and thinking these stars were about the most beautiful thing in the world. I see them as a great dome over the earth, protecting us and shining down when the sun forsakes us. They are so beautiful, they" I struggled on, Sparrow's tears still fell and he was gazing at me with eyes so dark and piercing and the bore into me in a way that made me quite afraid and exposed. "They, they are like diamonds, some big and some small, some ground to dust and scattered about it's brothers – like that constellation there, do you see? I am sure you feel I am quite mad to think such things and don't understand me one bit. So you mustn't cry, do you see?" I fell quiet, embarrassed, still Sparrow stared but his tears subsided.  
  
"You do understand me." His words made me jump, what did he know about me? What did he think he saw in me? "yer so quiet, and so 'aughty. But fer all o' that you see things fer 'ow they are." He pointed his finger at me, rings flashing in the moonlight as spoke. Then, finally he broke my gaze and turned to face the sea, draping his arm absently round my shoulders as he did so. "Even the luv' o' my life didn't understand me." He muttered.  
  
"Anamaria?" I asked gently.  
  
"Oh no, not her – her." I held my breath – another woman? Mayhap he meant the girl in Tortuga that Anamaria found him with all those years ago? I waited for more, but presently his head fell upon my shoulder and I heard his snores, loud and even, like a saw.  
  
After a while I slipped away, to stand at the helm; though what good I would have done in case of any trouble I didn't know. 


	13. Chpt 13

As dawn broke I got my first glimpse of Tortuga, one of the last pirate strongholds in the Caribbean. Port Royal, Madagasa, Nasseu Port; all were once crawling with pirates but one by one our Royal Navy drove them out and claimed back the land for England.  
  
The town seemed little more than a hamlet of taverns, whore houses and run down hotels, but there were a large number of boats anchored in its rocky harbour, of all different rates and lines. Our tiny cutter went mostly unnoticed in the dim light, and Jack quickly found the Pearl, like a shepherd who can recognise his favourite sheep from the whole flock.  
  
We quickly scrambled up the port side and tumbled onto the deck. I jumped up quickly and hissed to Jack  
  
"Do you think they heard that?"  
  
"From the Unhappy Turtle? Unlikely." I turned on the man sharply.  
  
"I hope you don't expect me to help you get this thing out of port without any help – because I won't!"  
  
"Simmer down darlin'," Jack grinned and patted me, as if I were an excited dog "Pirates are never at their best in the mornin' I'll slip ashore; gather up Gibbs, Ana and sum others and we'll be off in no time."  
  
"So I'll just wait here, then!" I called after Jack, as he sauntered down the gangplank and away into the mists of the Tortuga morning.  
  
****  
  
He returned a little before midday, with Anamaria, Gibbs, Mr. Cotton and Shorty, Jack knew well enough not to seek out Jeff and no one else was willing to return to the Pearl while he was Captain. It was a poor state of affairs, a crew of six could in theory man the Pearl, but not for any amount of time without working ourselves to death and the work would be slowly done, especially with me more a hindrance than a help. Before we considered this thought, Jack was eager to get out of Tortuga – Jeff would come looking for him like as not and the man was like a bear when angry. And so it was with much struggling and patience that we moved the Black Pearl out of the harbour before laying anchor a way off the north-eastern coast of Hispaniola.  
  
Mr. Cotton and Shorty were quick to go to their hammocks – a day of gruelling work after a night of revelry on Tortuga had left them the worse for wear. I gladly would have gone to my bunk too, but I wanted to hear Jack's council with Ana and Gibbs and spent the night on the cramp, cold stairs that lead from Jack's cabin to his dining room, my ear pressed to the door. What I heard however, was little of their plans, but much of Jack.  
  
"Jack, surely now yer see it's over fer us here?" That was Ana, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Not while I've got wind in my sails and rum in the hold." He retorted smoothly  
  
"Jack," Gibbs' voice was harsher and punctuated with the chink of tankard on the table. "Yer live yer life as if yer were writin' yer own ballad an' times ain't like that no more. It's 1738, things ain't wot they were."  
  
"Yer tellin' me there ain't no more treasure in the ports? That the merchants don't cross the Atlantic no more?"  
  
"But we don't need no more treasure Jack," Ana again "Couldn't jest get the comp..." "That ain't the way to do it!" Jack cut in, angrily "We're gettin' us a crew from Hispaniola – real Buccaneers, Savvy?"  
  
****  
  
I stood on deck and watched the new crew come aboard, with their bundles of clothes. These didn't look the bloodthirsty Buccaneers Jack had spoken of. Some of them were younger than me.  
  
"Where's the good men gone these days?" Jack muttered into his beard as he passed me.  
  
"Welcome aboard lads." I spoke as warmly as I could.  
  
"Are you a Tortuga whore?" One clean-shaven boy asked me timidly.  
  
I spent the rest of the night locked firmly in my cabin. 


	14. Chpt 14

We set sail that day, Jack would not tell us where, but he would look secretly at his compass and give co-ordinates only as the mood took him. The crew, some of then so green they had never sailed further than Jamaica were bewitched by their Captain's mysterious ways. Fresh supplies of rum gave the evenings an air of joviality that hadn't been seen on the ship since the before the slave mutiny. It was impossible not to get drawn into the atmosphere and I threw myself into work on the ship. Though I had picked up some simple sailing knowledge, I was more helpful away from the deck and after many sour looks for my tangled rigging and half-hearted shifts at the bilge-pump I found myself the ship's cook, most of the new crew having not known a meal away from their mother.  
  
Our progress was slow, with many stops for raids. These were still dreadful for me, but thankfully there were over quick – no merchant Captain could hold his own against Jack for long, and within half an hour the whereabouts of any booty was easily known. The raids grew less frequent as the hold became full. We had even gained another surgeon, forced to sign the pirate articles after a raid on a large sloop. Food and drink was plentiful and Jack became generous with both  
  
Even I started to relax; I began to join the crew below deck, and one night after a particularly successful rail on a merchant galleon my mutton stew had been rewarded with many drams of rum.  
  
"Who'll dance wiv' me?" I was drunk, I was very drunk, it was the first time I had been drunk and I was not taking it well. "You'll dance wiv' me Jack!" I called, flinging my arms about his neck. "Come on, I'll teach you to dance like a gentleman."  
  
"Bugger that luv'." He laughed and gripped my waist; a thrill went through me. "I'll teach you to dance like a pirate."  
  
And he did, he whirled me round the narrow space, with wild steps unlike any dance I had learnt at home. I laughed like a jackal and clung to his strong body and he spun faster and faster to the tune of badly played panpipes and accordion.  
  
But soon it seemed like the room, as well as me, was spinning and I held fast to Jack's body not out of fun, but for fear I would be dragged away in that blurred whirlwind of faces and noise.  
  
"Jack," I whispered in his ear "I don't feel very good." He loosened his grip on me and took note of my white face and glazed eyes.  
  
"Come on love follow ol' Capt'n Sparrow." He took my hand and guided me through the crowds of laughing sailors up the hatch and onto the deck.  
  
My stomach gave a lurch and I climbed onto the wet deck and I ran for the rails, narrowly missing my dress as I vomited into the sea.  
  
"There love let it all out, yer'll feel the better fer it." I took me a while to realise the soft voice and gentle stroking of my back was coming from Jack. I looked up and wiped my mouth.  
  
The cold air and stillness of the night seemed to hit me suddenly as I looked into those dark eyes. I no longer felt ill, though my knees shook and my head seemed lighter than air. I could feel the rum, warm and rich in my stomach and all the while was the pull of those dark, deep eyes.  
  
"Jack..." Was all I had time to say before his mouth came down hard on mine.  
  
This time there was no confusion, as in the cabin. It was like the both of us were one person, our bodies clinging together under the crisp, sparkling stars. His breath and skin was deliciously warm against the chill of night and I felt every scratch of stubble, every brush of his tongue against mine, every touch of our noses with a sensitivity I could not have imagined.  
  
Presently Jack pulled away and again I looked up into his eyes.  
  
"Come on love'. He spoke huskily and led me towards his cabin. I followed through the dining room and down the dark stairs with a needle of fear piercing my giddy warmth.  
  
As he laid me down on his bunk and began to kiss me, very gently and loosen my hair from its coils the needle of fear grew – many needles pricking away at me. My mouth felt dry and sour and my body froze.  
  
"Jack, I want you to know I..." I stopped, unnerved by having the man's whole attention. "I've never, I'll try and... You mustn't mind if." I struggled on, my words coming out fast and slurred in my befuddled state. "I know you must be used to girls who... I'm not sure how... please don't be," Jack placed a finger over my mouth. I took a deep breath and started again.  
  
"Does it hurt?" I stammered. I so badly did not want to disappoint him, but oh! I was so scared!  
  
Jack looked at me, a frown of concern creasing his face. He took my hand and softly kissed it.  
  
"Oh no love, it don't 'urt. But I reckon this dirty ol' man can wait a damn sight longer afore you 'ave to find that out." He turned to leave. "Get some sleep Cath." Was all I heard him say before he closed the door.  
  
I awoke the next morning with a thumping pain in my head. I looked about me and realised I was in Jack's bunk, I froze and let out a groan as last nights event trickled back to me.  
  
Oh no, surely I hadn't?  
  
Did I really try to?  
  
Had I truly said those things to Jack?  
  
"Mornin' luv." The sound of my cabin door opening was painful to my ears and the rough voice sent me scrambling for cover under the eiderdown. The low laugh did little to improve my humours "Yer comfy there?"  
  
"I am not coming out." I struggled to maintain my dignity as my voice came out muffled from under the covers. "Please leave me alone Sparrow."  
  
But the infuriating man just laughed more! I felt his strong hand ruffle my hair through the covers as he sat beside me.  
  
"No 'ard feelin's luv, I've seen many a gal in a worst state than you."  
  
Oh, the vomiting overboard! I hadn't remembered than until he spoke. I felt my cheeks glow with embarrassment as Jack continued his easy rambling.  
  
He spoke of Tortuga, and women who had fallen in the streets because they hadn't the barings to get to their lodgings that lay opposite the tavern. He spoke of a girl who had thought herself a cockerel and had climbed up onto a roof, vowing to crow in the morning. They had found her asleep against the weathercock.  
  
"Come along my girl," Jack finished his story abruptly and tugged down the eiderdown, sending my hair into a crackling mass of frizz. "The boys want their breakfast." And, almost to quick to notice, he bent and kissed my cheek before sauntering out the door.  
  
"Jack?" I called, he stopped at the foot of the stairs, not turning "Am I really your girl?" He snorted and turned, grinning wickedly  
  
"Interesting, very interesting." . 


	15. Chpt 15

Whether I was his girl or no, something had changed between me and the Captain, he would talk and jest with me often and when I least expected it I would receive a brief brush of lips against my cheek or a squeeze of an arm about my waist. It would send a warm thrill through me, but confused me also.  
  
****  
  
It was midday, about a week since we had set off from Hispaniola, we must have been nearing the centre of the Caribbean sea, though what Jack hoped to find there I did not know. Merchant ships did not often cross the here alone because of the danger of pirates and we had no raids for two days. The crew became restless and full summer bore down upon us.  
  
I was sheltering from the heat of the cloudless day in the galley. On deck the heat was unbearable and sweat streamed from the half-naked bodies of the crew. It the coolness of the galley I eyed the bacon hanging from the ceiling warily and planned the evening meal in my mind. The pirates were not fond of the high-class fayre I had been taught to cook at home, but this was fortunate as I was none to good at producing it. It seemed enough to brew up vats of porridge for breakfast and hearty stews with for dinner.  
  
I hummed idly to myself and let my mind wander, drumming my fingers on the table. They seemed leaner and browner than when I had set out, the nails were stumpy and split in places and on the wrists were a couple of while scars from where I had clumsily burned myself while cooking in the great cauldron over the stove. I had not looked at my reflection for months, I wondering if the rest of me was much changed. My thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open, letting in a gust of warm air. I was barely surprised to see Jack, since the hot weather had hit he would often visit me in my shady cavern.  
  
"Afternoon darlin'." He bowed expansively and managed to retain his composure, though sweat was dripping off your nose. "I wonder if this 'umble pirate might beg a draught of cool water from this jewel of a scullery maid?"  
  
"Scullery maid, my eye!" I retorted haughtily "Besides," I added, wrinkling my nose. "I will only grant you water if you are to bathe some of the filthy smell off with it." For the heat of the overhead sun had wrought its damage on Jack's armpits.  
  
"Ah," Jack raised his eyebrows, a look of mock apology apon his face "I see my good scullery maid refers to my natural masculine aroma. But as the ladies wishes. Come;" He gestured to the pewter tub that hung on the door of the galley "Pour me a bath then, fair scullery wench and yer cap'n will soon smell sweet as roses."  
  
"As my fair Captain wishes." I drew a jug of water from the barrel and poured it carefully into the tub, it barely covered the bottom. "There is a bath fit for a king."  
  
"Thank ye' kindly, scullery." Jack began to shrug off his jacket, smirking "Though a true king would 'ave some help with 'is royal garments."  
  
"Ahh, then my goodly king I must leave you - for I am only a mere scullery and could not hope to touch the king's robes." I retorted, laughing as his coat snagged on his scabbard and hung there. "I don't believe this king would refuse my help, however." I unhooked his jacket and handed it back to him giving an involuntary shiver as his hand brushed against mine.  
  
"Scullery," He began, but something in my look stopped him. I had grown suddenly tired of this jest. King and scullery maid we were not, and it seemed I would never discovered what we were to each other.  
  
"Jack, I..."  
  
"Cathy." Jack spoke slowly and evenly, his hand brushing my tangled curls from my forehead. I felt faint and dizzy, my lips tingled and I itched to close the space between his face and mine. Jack's hands did not roam as they did when he was drunk, but clasped mine firmly. Our eyes were locked together and his face seemed to swim slightly in the stifled heat of the galley. Just as I made to lean forward there was a load, clear shout from the crew's nest:  
  
"Land ahoy!"  
  
The whole crew was on deck, watching as the dismal grey island rolled into view. I had never seem a place so desolate in my life, Tortuga was a paradise in comparison, was this what we were searching for? Surely not.  
  
"The Isle De Muerta, lads." Jack spoke standing on the rail – hanging onto the rigging for support with one hand while he gestured expansively towards the island with the other "Right yer scurvy sea dogs, jump to it; Gibbs, Ana – run out the boats, and follow my course. You, you and you – up to the nest, keep a sharp look out." I stood still, in the middle of a hive of activity, then, as each left to carry out his own task I was alone, Jack looking out of his telescope, his back to me. I curled my toes against the dusty hot surface of the deck.  
  
"And me?" Jack turned slightly and shot me a piercing look. At least I imagine it would have been piercing he wasn't still holding the telescope to his face.  
  
"Yes?" He stepped forward, stopped, corrected the obvious mistake and carried on. "Yes?" "What shall a simple scullery maid do?" I smiled at him, trying to recapture the feeling between us a moment earlier.  
  
"Yer'll come wiv' me I s'pose." He turned away as he spoke, his voice vague – he seemed drawn to that dingy island, though for the life of me I could not fathom why. Rather hurt at this sudden rebuke I quickly clambering into the boat after Jack.  
  
So we set off, aiming for a cleft between two of the island's many black rocky splits of land. Jack rowing in silence, his back turned to me, stubbornly facing the island. I felt abandoned and ignored. While much had changed about me in the past months, I cannot deny I still resorted to sulks when slighted. The sun was unbearable, I felt jealous of the crew – able to strip down to their waists while I was bound with ribbons, lace and whalebone. Sweat beaded on my forehead and I wriggled impatiently on the boats rough seat.  
  
"What so important about this Isle De Mwer-ta anyway?" I asked in my most cutting voice. Jack answered without even turning around.  
  
"The Isle De Muerta is an island of untold riches, mostly untold 'cause I've kept it a secret. After seven years o' plunderin' wiv' the Black Pearl I 'ave chosen to return 'ere an' take whot I desire." I snorted; this was too much – the island was obviously some abandoned strip of land, not one speck of green grew on its' surface.  
  
"And what riches, pray tell, do you hope to find on a desolate rock in the middle of the ocean?" Now he turned, and gave me a gold-flecked grin.  
  
"Scullery, are ye familiar wiv' the term 'buried treasure'?"  
  
The boat knocked against a spit of rock, jutting out into the sea, Jack rowed carefully, sometimes hauling us along by pulling on the rocks. He was muttering to himself and seemed to be looking for something, though I could not fathom what. Just as I fearfully began to wonder if the heat hadn't turned him mad we turned a corner and there was a yawning, shallow cave in the black, barren rock.  
  
Despite spending over three months with these pirates, I was not as brave (or as foolhardy) as them and I hung back in the rear of the boat.  
  
"We are to go in there?" I asked, fearfully.  
  
But Jack had chosen to ignore me and he edged the boat into the dark hole. For a while all was blackness, I could see nothing and hear nothing save the gentle splash of water against the boat and the occasional drip from somewhere far above. I had a feeling of space around me and I wondered how such a small opening could conceal something so large. Presently, Jack lit a lamp and hung it in the prow of the boat, giving us a little light. I could see we were in a large cavern, the rocks formed into strange shapes from years of water dripping down and running off its surface. We were only a tiny pool of light in the vast darkness, but ahead I thought I could make out a darker patch of blackness.  
  
As we got closer, it became clearer – the dark patch was a tunnel, wide at the mouth, but quickly narrowing down so only one man could pass it at a time. We left the boat and Jack began to lead me down the tunnel, but again I hung back. "What about the lantern?" I asked, making to remove it from the boat.  
  
"Never mind about that now." Jack pulled on my hand like some impatient child. I followed him down the tunnel, determined not to show my fear. The walls were dank and the sand beneath my feet was damp and stuck between my toes. It was dark, but I managed to see my way by keeping my eyes focused on Jack's red bandanna, which showed up a little in the gloom. After what felt like an age the tunnel began to widen and the air felt fresher. I stepped round a corner and was blinded by a dazzling light.  
  
I stood at the edge of cave and stared, mouth open, not believing what I could see. I had heard of buried treasure – but the idea of a musty chest under three feet of sand did not compare to this. The caves of the Isle De Muerta was an image firmly fixed in my mind after this brief visit, and even today I cannot find the words to describe the place. It is beyond description. Gold, in the form of coins, jewellery and ornaments, covers every available surface. The place sparkles like the inside of a diamond. I was no stranger to wealth, but these caves overwhelmed me.  
  
I stared, open-mouthed at Jack, who was stepping through the endless gold, here and there touching pieces as if they were old friends. Once again I took in his shabby clothes, unkempt hair, rough hands and scarred face, I wondered what he was doing living the life he did; here was enough treasure to live in luxury for the rest of his days!  
  
The crew began to arrive, each seemed as awe-struck as me, inexperienced and fanciful as they were none could have imagined such opulent expanses of wealth. I believe I heard more heathen curses and oaths in that ten minutes than in my whole time with the Black Pearl. Jack, still wandering as if in a trance finally noticed them and began to speak.  
  
"Right, you thievin' devils, take only whot we need. Enough fer a year o easy livin' an' that's all! If I catch any of yer wiv' so much as one gold piece in yer pocket – yer'll walk the plank, so 'elp me God."  
  
The crew began to march purposefully through the endless sea of riches, picking up only the occasional item, though many more were longingly fondled. Having nothing to do, I wandered aimlessly, star-struck as the rest of the crew. On a jagged rock stood a stone chest, it looked ancient and ordinary against it's sparkling companions, though a single ray of light fell ominously onto it. I daintily stepped up to it and reached out to lift the lid, but before my hand got close it was snatched away.  
  
"You don't wanna be doing that missy." It was Gibbs.  
  
"And why not Mr. Gibbs?" I enquired, there was something about that chest – I longed to see what it contained.  
  
"That chest be cursed, missy." He spoke in a low voice, yet many of the others stopped and began listening. "Long ago that chest of Aztec gold was paid as blood money Cortez himself, to stem the violence against their people. But the tale goes the Aztec gods cursed the..."  
  
"Gibbs," Jack staggered through the group that had surrounded us, he had a crown on his head and bracelets all up his arms, I thought him ridiculous. "Don't frighten the girl wiv' stories, she's only a simple lass."  
  
He wandered off, and I was left fuming as the crew dispersed and headed back to the boats. Remembering the dark tunnel, I hurried quickly after them and only just managed to catch the last boat before they left.  
  
****  
  
"Oh Miss. Barbrook, can yer imagine?" Whispered Billy, a particularly eager youth whose boat in which I had the misfortune to be travelling back to the Pearl. "All that treasure! An' now we get to go to Tortuga and spend it! Imagine Miss, Tortuga!" I looked up sharply and smiled at the simple boy.  
  
"But you are mistaken, Captain Sparrow will be making sail for Barbados and returning me home."  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon Miss, but that ain't whot 'e told us."  
  
"Oh." I replied tersely.  
  
'The nerve of that man! When I think of the things I had felt for him – that I had done to him! I fumed silently as we approached the black Pearl. 


	16. Chpt 16

I clambered aboard, the cool wind that now blew did nothing to calm my temper and I pushed through a swath of pirates, cooing over treasure till I reached Jack – still wearing the crown and bracelets.  
  
"Cathy, my love!" He cried on my approach, sounding drunker than he ever had done after a night of rum. I wondered which kind of intoxication Jack really preferred. "Cathy we are rich as bloody lords! Come 'ere!" He pulled me roughly towards him and grinned at me, brushing some hair off my forehead and running a hand down my corseted body "Now, where were we?" I pulled back, still brimming over with anger and now embarrassment – I was acutely aware of the crew's eyes on us. Anamaria turned and walked off sharply, pushing one lad nearly overboard as she left.  
  
"Jack, you are a lying, thieving scoundrel! You have made me a promise - which you have repeatedly failed to honour. Are we truly to set sail for Tortuga! Do you expect me to frequent the filthy heart of piracy of me own free will? Do the one honest thing in your life and take me home!" I finished, tears in my eyes, so furious was I.  
  
"Don't worry love." He brushed my tears away and planted an absent-minded kiss on my cheek "Wiv' this swag I'll make yer a rich woman, Cathy."  
  
"But I already am one!"  
  
"Well, I..." The bumbling fool floundered, hands clasped together in his characteristic begging stance. "Please come to Tortuga."  
  
"No." He squinted and re-clasped his hands.  
  
"Please ?" I stared at him, open-mouthed, amazing at his shameless audacity – that man was impossible!  
  
"No!"  
  
"Just – bear wiv' me. Yer'll love it."  
  
****  
  
We arrived at Tortuga two days later, as dusk settled over the hellish town. Sounds of drunken carousing could already be heard, though we had only just entered the bay.  
  
I was in my cabin, coverlet slung over my shoulders as I stared out at the lights scattered over the barren hillside. Jack may have convinced me to come to this awful place, but I was determined not to come ashore. I would be safer on any ship than in that lawless place.  
  
"You comin' Miss Barbrook?" Billy cautiously peeped round the door. I smiled tersely at him.  
  
"No thank you Billy."  
  
"Aww, come on, Miss. I knows yer soft on Cap'n Sparrer." I snorted imperiously "An' 'e's soft on yer an' all. 'E'd be 'appy as a sandman if yer came ashore. I 'eard 'im say as much to Mr. Gibbs, Miss." I turned my head to the window to hide my blush from Billy.  
  
"Well then, perhaps I'd better accompany him, I've heard the most dreadful things about Tortuga. I'm sure Jack would fair better with me looking after him."  
  
"Awww, get on wiv' yer, Miss Barbrook." Billy grinned from ear to ear and scampered out of my room like a child. It was only later I took in the significance of the coins I heard clinking in his pockets.  
  
I thought of Jack's gentlemanly ways at Mr. Smythe's house and considered whether all that rough and tumble wasn't saved for the ships alone. Maybe pirates behaved altogether better on dry land.  
  
"Oi, Oi Darlin'!" Shouted a rough voice, spilling grog down my dress in an over zealous toast. "Need sum 'un to show ye around?"  
  
"She's fine, thank yer mate." Jack laid a steady hand on the man's shoulder.  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon mister Sparrer – I din't know she were wiv' you." To my surprise the fifteen stone man shuffled off – hanging his great head and clasping hands as big as hams apologetically.  
  
The crew quickly dispersed, young eyes shining like moons at the opportunities for debauchery that lay before them. Ana, Gibbs and Jack were more cautious but I could tell all three were eager for some drink. We entered a tavern called the three turtles. I could not describe its interior to you, other than to say any distinguishing features of sight, smell or sound were covered up by thick clouds of tobacco smoke, an overpowering odour of grog and the shouts and laughs of the drunk.  
  
We sat at a table, somewhat out of the way of the other customers and Jack quickly procured four pints. Ana, Gibbs and Jack drank deeply, but I left mine untouched – the memory of vomiting overboard was still too strong. Feeling out of my depth in this raucous place, I kept my head down as the others entered into conversation. I must have been more tired than I thought because the next thing I was aware of was Jack calling out for another pint across the empty tavern. The fire burning in the corner was glowing deep red and my three companions were talking in hushed voices.  
  
"I'm telling ye Jack, its over for us; pirates're bein' cornered like rabbits in a run. No where's safe, it's only a matter o' time. Why don't we make off wiv' the treasure while the goin's good?"  
  
"Yer could be a merchant sailor, join the Navy if yer wanted to stay on the sea, Jack. But this life is over for us."  
  
"Yer've got money enough Jack, whot more is there?"  
  
I looked up through my eyelashes, not wanting them to know I was listening. Jack was slumped over the table; he looked tired and, in the low light of the fire – surprisingly old. Ana and Gibbs leaned towards him, but he didn't meet their gaze, instead his eyes were fixed on a roughly finished oil painting of a ship riding on white-tipped waves that hung above the fireplace.  
  
"Whot d'yer say, mate?" Gibbs spoke soothingly, and slightly fearfully, it seemed to me. Anamaria laid a hand on his folded arms.  
  
"Do yer not think its time fer yer to settle down?" She tried to touch his face, but he turned away "Do yer remember, we said we'd always..."  
  
"I'm off to bed." Jack interrupted her question in a husky tone. "Tomorrer we gotta get the ship careened an' caulked, so be up bright an' early."  
  
Gibbs and Ana sat silently, finishing their drinks. Then Ana made to wake me and I made a pretence of yawning and rubbing my eyes. She took me up to a damp room in the loft of the tavern and I laid beside her on a narrow pallet bed, pretending not to hear her sobs. 


	17. Chpt 17

The next morning, Ana and Gibbs did as they were bid and were up at cock's crow to meet Jack. Having nothing else I desired to do in this hellish town, I decided to follow them.  
  
It was a cool, clear morning, with the cloudless sky promising heat later. We found Jack in a small bay someway off from Tortuga's main harbour. He was shouting and waving at the Black Pearl, which seemed to be heading straight for the beach.  
  
"Shouldn't we be alarmed?" I whispered to Ana  
  
"Nah, just watch."  
  
Soon the Pearl ran ashore, with a great grinding of wood on sand. Suddenly the whole of the tiny beach was ablaze with activity. Ropes were thrown over the Pearl, which the crew began to haul against, bringing the whole ship down onto its left side. It was a formidable sight to see the great masts swing out of their position, bisecting the skyline and topple like trees to the ground. The bustle of activity and noise stopped abruptly as the Black Pearl collapsed on its side with a great and fearsome thud, spraying up sand in a spluttering wave.  
  
Now the ship was lying completely on its side, looking forlorn and abandoned as some ancient shipwreck. Tony, the ships carpenter and one of the few of the crew from Hispaniola to have passed his thirtieth year, walked slowly round the ship, here and there tapping a board or pulling at some piece of sea debris. The rest of the crew stood respectfully aside, waiting for his orders. It was clear it was going to be a long day.  
  
And it was, I discovered the ships hull needed to be completely cleared of seaweed and barnacles – this to be done with burning in some places. Then any rotten or damaged boards needed to be replaced. After this the gaps between the boards had to be shored up with oakum and pitch before the whole hull was sealed with a mixture of tallow, oil and brimstone. I had no idea a ship needed so much maintenance and watched with a kind of wonder as the crew crawled over the hull like ants, working to remove the rubbish it had collected while at sea.  
  
The sun grew high and hot overhead and I was persuaded to fetch first flagons of water and later grog for the sailors. My feet were burnt by the hot sand and I felt dizzy from the heat and for a while I sat in the shade of the deck, drinking heavily of the water I had fetched.  
  
"Slow down love," I looked up into a familiar pair of laughing brown eyes "Where's the fire?"  
  
"In my belly!" I replied as Jack sat down next to me, rolling one of his rings between his hands. It was the silver one with a large, smooth dark jewel set in it. He slipped it onto his finger and slowly closed his hand into a fist.  
  
"Yer've changed a lot since I first met yer." He began slowly. I shrugged "Yer were all airs an' graces an' now yer runnin' around, barefoot an' tanned as a slave – like a regular pirate's scullery."  
  
"I beg your pardon Captain Sparrow." I began, smiling - but he waved away my objection, staring out to the sea beyond the bay. "D'yer reckon it's easy fer people to change, Cathy? 'Cause I've bin thinkin'..."  
  
"You have to do what your heart tells you." I replied, before realising I'd even thought the words. I looked up at him and with a sudden ache of misgiving and guilt; realised what my heart was telling me.  
  
"Aye." He glanced over at me, for a moment catching my eye. I tried to turn away but he reached up and put his hand to my cheek. "But whot if yer don't trust yer 'eart no more?"  
  
He kissed me slowly and I could feel his hands tremble. Why was it always like this? A moment of closeness, the kissing and just when I began to believe I understood him... Despite his foolish and lawless behaviour I couldn't help but see a good man in Jack. When so many I had met in my time were false he was true to himself to the last. As we kissed under the fading heat and light of the sun I felt my faith in society and etiquette fall away. Here, miles away from home life seemed so much simpler; the food, drink, rules were plain and practical and I believe I had come to enjoy it.  
  
"yer've got all of yer life ahead o' yer Cathy, an' I've got it all be'ind me." He spoke in a low voice as we pulled apart "But I dunno if I'm cut out fer this pirating lark fer much longer, an'..."  
  
"Cap'n Sparrer Tony sez... oh, blimey! Sorry Cap'n..." It was Billy out off breath, cap in hand and backing away apologetically.  
  
"It's alright Bill, me lad." Jack spoke with a groan as he stood and I realised the moment had, as usual, passed. "Take me to 'im an' we'll 'ave this bitch back in the water where she belongs in no time." He slapped the overhanging mast fondly and swaggered away across the beach.  
  
Soon the crew were pulling on the ropes and the Pearl began to rise from the sand. I backed away, determined not to let them see my face, red and brimming with tears. 


	18. Chpt 18

My second night in the Three Turtles was spent with Anamaria. While Jack and Gibbs were chasing up old acquaintances neither of us seemed to be able to stomach a night of social intercourse. We sat at the same, secluded fireside table we has spend the previous night. Neither of us spoke much at first– Ana swallowed her drinks quickly, though without relish while I set about mine with a kind of grim persistence. Grog, that is rum mixed with beer, tasted much worse than rum alone but if it could numb the pain that hadn't left me since that moment on the beach when Jack walked away then I cared not if it tasted of hell itself.  
  
"Bloody men!" Ana put froth after a particularly long swig "Bloody pirates!" I replied, raising my tankard.  
  
"I'll drink to that." She took another long draft. "Ye know, I reckon it's over fer me – piracy I mean." She waved her hands about in a manner not unlike Jack. "Nuffin' left fer the likes o' me. Don't reckon I'll be leavin' this rock any time soon." She leaning back in her chair and half closed her eyes.  
  
"But what about the Pearl? And the crew, what'll they do without you? And Mr. Gibbs and, and Jack?" Ana leaned forward and shot me a sharp look.  
  
"Jack can go hang." She asserted with a slam of her tankard on the table.  
  
"Oh, right." I replied, absently watching the grog she had spilt spreading over the grimy table.  
  
We were silent for a while longer, a barmaid, spilling indecorously out of her bodice, placed two more tankards at our table without being asked.  
  
"He's a bastard." Ana spoke abruptly, as if there had been no gap in the conversation. "A pansy bastard whot' 'as never cared fer a lady whot 'asn't got a prow an' a mizzenmast. A limey, scurvy bastard." Anamaria's lilting Caribbean tone curled like a kicked dog round the harsh, low words.  
  
"Oh." I repeated, unable to think of a suitable reply.  
  
"I know yer think yer love 'im."  
  
"Oh?" I sipped my grog and felt a fool.  
  
"'E probably thinks 'e loves you, like as not." She lifted her feet onto the table, which shook slightly. "But 'e's wrong an' so are you. I know 'im better than 'e does 'imself an' that bastard can't think straight 'bout anyfing 'cept ships an' treasure." Ana's face was turned to the ceiling and she didn't seem to be addressing me any longer. I ran my finger round the edge of my tankard – at a loss for what to say.  
  
"So what will you do in Tortuga?" I asked miserably. Ana met my gaze, a wry smile on her face.  
  
"The oldest profession in the world, darlin'."  
  
"But you can't, you wouldn't!" Ana snorted and drunk heavily from her now almost empty tankard, I glanced quickly at her "You haven't, have you?"  
  
"Darlin', when I came to Tortuga there were only three things a pirate wanted from a woman – food, rum or a screw. Well I can't stomach the idea of runnin' a place like this," She looked around distastefully. "An' I can't cook fer buggery so that were it." She shrugged. "It's warmer than sailin', anyway."  
  
I swallowed half my grog without even tasting it, imagine! Doing, doing that for a living. I had never even suspected. All my life I'd been told that women who did that were, well, that they were barely human. Certainly not in the eyes of God and all decent society.  
  
"Oh, don't look at me like that." Ana reached for the next tankard as soon as the barmaid set it down. "I'm sure you ain't ever been lyin' in a freezin' bed, wonderin' if yer gonna be lyin' in the streets the next night. I'm sure you ain't never 'ad two farthin's to rub togetha or bin a week with nuffin' but ships tack an' stale beer in yer belly."  
  
"I'm, I'm sure in that situation I'd do what I had to." I replied graciously, not wanting to anger Ana further.  
  
"Yeah, well, yer might 'ave to yet."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure yer do. But the crew's gonna be 'ere fer a while yet an' a doubt Jack will even remember yer name after a spell in the bars. Yer ever seen that man down a bottle of good quality, dark navy rum in one go? I'm talkin' proper stuff here, not weak imported crap – well I've seen 'im do it an' I'm tellin' yer I'd be surprised if 'e could remember 'is own name in a few days time." I took another sip of my drink and glanced up at her.  
  
"Bloody hell."  
  
"Yeah, I'd say so."  
  
****  
  
So she convinced me. I don't know how – the night went on and the barmaid kept bringing over more grog. The room got very warm and a little misty round the edges and I began to feel anywhere with a lot of big, soft beds sounded perfectly fine to me. In that warm and fluffy room I began to see Ana for the fount of knowledge that she was – she would lead me to my fortune. I would charm salty, kind-hearted old seamen and me and Ana would save up and buy a plantation together; where I would sleep on silk sheets everyday and Ana would have twenty merchant sailors as slaves.  
  
Around dawn, the grog finally ran out and we made our way across the rambling streets of Tortuga to the Red House. 


	19. Chpt 19

Authors note – Well here it is, the long-awaited for (I hope) next chapter, all other chapter have been improved and updated and if you really want to get in my good books you can go to the beginning and see what marvellous improvements I've made. But if not – don't worry, there've been no major changes to the plot so you're not missing out on anything. Anyway, my apologies if you've received 19 Author Alerts thanks to my mass updating. Also, thank you for everyone who's reviewed so far – please continue to do so! And thank you to my good friend Helen who kindly proof-read my latest version and pointed out my many, many typos and grammatical mistakes.  
  
I stood in the middle of a gaudily decorated room, while Ana fussed about me. "Are you sure about this?" I asked as I squinted into the mirror of burnished silver. "yer look like a princess, I promise." Ana replied as she strung a length of ribbon through my hair.  
  
I have never been a beauty, my face is rather thin, with a large nose and heavy-lidded eyes. My hair is, and always will be, nothing more than a frothy mass of black. At home my figure had tended towards roundness but months of ships fayre had reduced me to a birch switch. Travel had also sunburned my cheeks, freckled my nose and hardened my hands.  
  
The cheaply cut green silk dress, with purple petticoats, did nothing to improve my appearance, nor did the heavy make-up or hastily piled hair. Ana had refused to let me wear the heavy white lead make-up so popular at Red House, but she needn't have worried as I was deadly pale with headaches, nerves and regret.  
  
"There, all done." Ana met my eyes in the mirror and flashed me a brief smile "I reckon we'll stay put t'night – let the bastards come crawlin' to us!" She clapped me on the back firmly – I flinched and watched as she walked off – I could not get used to the sight of Ana in a dress. The tightly-fitted scarlet bodice made me wonder how I had ever mistaken her for a man.  
  
****  
  
"That's Captain Flitch – get 'im if yer can, 'e's jest pulled into harbour wiv' over a thousands ducats they say." I followed Ana's gaze to a haggard looking man with a wooden peg where his left leg should have been. I shuddered and took a deep drink from my tankard, I could not swallow much after the previous night, but I longed for a warm glow to take away the worst of this dismal brothel; a girl cost more with a bed and across the room were couples laid across tables, against walls and a few flexible young ladies making full use of the chairs and benches.  
  
As a young wife of six children my mother had taught me what to expect on my wedding night – but there were no weddings here and some of the sights did not quite fit my mother's descriptions.  
  
"An' that there is ol' Johnny – that scoundrel. 'E's two 'undred ducats in dept if 'e's penny an' round the bastard goes wiv' two girls on 'is arm. An' that bloke claims to 'ave been a cabin boy on Blackbeard's flagship, but don't yer believe a word of it. Don't bother wiv' 'im neither – 'e's got the pox, that'll send yer mad an' kill yer wiv'in a year. An' that bloke," Ana faltered as a familiar figure made his way though the crowds, bowing graciously and doffing his hat to a giggling mass of cleavage and curls.  
  
I bit my lip and watched as the insipid wretch snaked her arms about him and pulled him closer, she laughed as Jack whispered in her ear and turned her head fetchingly as he slipped the lace neck of her dress from her shoulder – I watched in disgust, surely he wasn't? But no, evidently he had no wish to look like those other red faced, sweating and he took the girls hand and lead her to a curtained stairway.  
  
My heart leapt up to my throat as they disappeared into the crowd. Without stopping to think I glanced at Ana – she was engaged in conversation with a red-cheeked young sailor, I recognised him as one of our own crew, though he obviously didn't see the connection between the dusky lady before him and his stern quartermaster. I dived into the crowd, avoiding the flailing limbs I managed to catch up with the couple before they passed through the curtain.  
  
"Jack," I tugged on the sleeve of his dirty shirt.  
  
"Scullery,"He slurred, "Wot a love-er-ly surprise." 


	20. Chpt 20

"Scullery, this is, is..." Jack waved his arms helplessly at the girl, who was fidgeting with her curls and developing a convincing innocent blush.  
  
"Katie, ain't it?" She stuck out a plump, shapely arm and interrupted as I attempted to correct her. "I'm Ginny, short for Gwendolyn – ain't it awful." I ignored her.  
  
"Jack, I just wanted to, to say... before you, I." Ginny continued curling her hair as she idly picked the pockets of a man embroiled in conversation with a skinny red-head, Jack watched approvingly and neither seemed to be listening to me. "Never mind." I plunged back into the crowd and willed myself not to look back.  
  
"'Ello sweet'eart," Drawled an old, toothless sailor "'Ow would ye like a pretty piece o' gold?"  
  
"No thank you." I replied curtly as I sulked by the makeshift bar. My ugliness didn't seem to be discouraging the customers, but despite the tips Ana had given me I couldn't bring myself to fawn over these drunken sweaty fiends the way the other girls seemed able to do. Presently the hour grew late and the men lolled around on the floor; either felled by drink or too sated to move. I crept away with the other girls. In the tiny room I shared with Ana I found my space in the bed taken up by the young sailor.  
  
After that, hours and days seemed meaningless to me though, looking back, I could not have been at Red house more than a week. Ana set about her work with a kind of joyless determination, concentrating furiously on the gossip and scandals of the local girls she refused to talk about the Pearl, or sailing and least of all; Jack. She laughed often, and her cheeks were like as not to be found red from fair does of grog. But the light, the light I used to see in her eyes when the sun rose over the horizon we sailed towards or when the mainsail was fully unfurled, that was gone and looked never to return.  
  
The scandal of living in a brothel left little impression on me, for you see, I did not a single 'job' as the girls termed it, the whole time I was there. A few of the girls were young and even pretty, like Gwendolyn, but most were over thirty-five and were rouged and corseted to the point of the grotesque. However, most of these well-worn women were mothers, and kindly ones at that; so they contrived to make me into something of a pet. The idea that I was a Lady 'brought down in the world' was of infinite romance to them, and the rumour that the famously virile Jack Sparrow might be involved brought me fame. Mostly I was found some light domestic work.  
  
Ana seemed to dislike this treatment of me, and though she was mostly kind in word and deed there were times when I knew she resented my treatment and association with Jack. One night, I believe it may have been the seventh or eighth night at Red house; Ana had taken in a fair amount of grog and gin whilst visiting a cousin and began an argument as she prepared to venture out to the taverns.  
  
"I ain't impressed yer know, and neithers nobody else." She muttered angrily, hitching up her bosom as I made up the beds in our tiny room. "yer cooked on the Pearl, yer clean 'ere, yer ain't training fer some finishin' school – yer livin' wiv' whores an' pirates." I remained silent.  
  
"Think yer too good yer this work, ain't put a silk dress on since the first night. Come down to the pub wiv' me, if yer liver ain't too yeller."  
  
"I'm not afraid, Ana." Turning my back, so she would not see the lie.  
  
"Then come out."  
  
"I can't, Trudy asked me to do all these beds."  
  
"leave 'em, no bugger cleaned 'em before you – they'll last one night."  
  
"Ana..."  
  
"if yer don't come out t'night, then we're through, yer 'ear me? I'm sick o' yer 'aughty ways and simperin' an' sighin' over this an' that. Sick, d'yer 'ear me?"  
  
I looked up and caught her face in the mirror, her hands shaking as she rimmed her lids with kohl. I put my arms about her shoulders and met the eye of her reflection with a small smile.  
  
"Then I'll come out."  
  
So I returned to the Three Turtles and, fortified with a tot of gin made a half-heated attempt at bawdy conversation with the locals. At the stroke of midnight Ana had disappeared and, aside from the friendly hand of a midshipman, which I shook off after pocketing a farthing, I was alone.  
  
"My good lady," I turned in surprise to hear such a cultivated voice amongst the rabble of the Three Turtles. The owner of the voice was a sharply dressed young man of about twenty-one or two, handsome, but on second glance his clothes and face were worn, much like mine, "My good lady" He repeated "Would you care for a drink?" I blushed at hearing such courtesy  
  
"My good sir." I replied sincerely "I would like nothing more."  
  
"A flagon of wine for this fine creature." He pronounced grandly, the barmaid raised her eyebrows at such extravagance, but complied.  
  
Lieutenant Audrey, it transpired, had been sent off to the Navy by a tyrannous farther. Not having taken to military life he quickly absconded from his ship and found himself a pirates birth an the galleon 'Revenge' named by a pretentious Captain after Bartholomew Robert's ship 'Queen Anne's Revenge'. He claimed he saw no real action here but a lot of 'faff and fiddle' from the fashion-conscious crew. So when they came ashore at Tortuga, he slipped away.  
  
"... And here I am." He finished with a flourish.  
  
"My goodness," I breathed, in what I knew full well to be a simpering mixture of the fawning of whores and the language of ballrooms and banquets. "And what do you plan to do now?"  
  
He described the merchant hip had had bartered passage on, which sailed in three days time. It was an honest, but lowly ship, he admitted. Its crew scratching out a living by running carpentry supplies from mainland Hispaniola to the otherwise shunned Tortuga. As he spoke, describing his plans to sail on from Hispaniola to the Americas and set up a homestead, he poured more wine.  
  
"A man can really breath out there Catherine, there's no Burke's peerage, or military duty; just miles and miles of fresh plains, lofty mountains and lush green forests." His eyes seemed to mist over slightly and in a sudden movement he clasped my hand. "Some say there's gold to be found, but that's not for me – all I want is a house, some land to farm and a wife to look after me and give me children." Here he caught my eye, and I looked away, blushing. I had learnt enough about seduction from Jack but this an made me feel like a young girl at court again.  
  
Presently the bar began to clear, and the barmaid cleaned glasses and looked at us pointedly.  
  
"Look here," Audrey spoke suddenly "Where are you staying? This place is deadly at night – will you let me escort you home?"  
  
"Oh no!" I blurted out, imagining Audrey leading me up to Red House and realising who I was, what I was. "I mean, no, I have no where."  
  
"well then you must permit me to find you a room in my own quarters, come." He offered his arm, and sinking into the well-known dance of etiquette I took it and stepped lightly off the stool, my days as a pirates scullery seeming years away.  
  
We walked silently through the rowdy streets. I blissfully ignored the grog- sickened faces, the screeching of whores and the earthy curses and imagined myself stepping down the avenue at home, with a dashing soldier on my arm.  
  
We reached a inn at the harbour, though it was no less shabby than any other I could not imagine Audrey choosing anything less than the best in town.  
  
"Catherine, I wonder if I may be so bold," Audrey spoke up as we stood outside the door to the room he had procured for me. My heart leapt.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I don't want to seem improper, but may I have a kiss." I smiled a long, slow smile and offered my cheek, the imprint of his soft lips and tickly moustache tingled on my face as I settled down to sleep. 


	21. Chpt 21

**Well, here it is at last, we are slowly drawing to the end. Thank you to Alteng for pointing out my mistake in ignoring my opening line. I am, however, going to follow the current plot to it's end – later I might make an alternate ending that fits in better. (plz review if you think this is a good/bad idea, in fact - review anyway)**  
  
The next morning dawned wet and grey, but to me the sun shone brighter than it had done for months. I had not awoken to the curses of pirates or whores, and there was Lieutenant Audrey!  
  
My bare feet skipped lightly on the wooden floor as I drew my dress off a hook on the back of the door. I eyed the green satin suspiciously and wondered what Audrey had made of it the night before. I reasoned he could not have thought anything untoward, either it had been too dark in the tavern to properly see my clothes or he saw nothing wrong with such attire. After all, I mused as I dressed, was it really so much worse than the gaudy silks and jewels worn by women at home?  
  
I checked my reflection in a cracked mirror, scrubbed my face of all traces of make-up and rinsed my hair in a jug of water before pinning it back neatly. I contemplated my appearance and longed for a jacket, or even a piece of lace gauze to hide the low bodice of my dress. Sighing and patting my hair, I left the room.  
  
And walked straight into Audrey.  
  
"Good Morning Catherine" He beamed at me, his face red and clean shaved and cravat freshly washed and starched. I smiled to note the care he had also taken over his appearance. "Won't you join me for breakfast?"  
  
"Last night you learned all about me, but I am still none the wiser about you." Audrey commented over a hearty meal of toast, butter, jam, cold meats and hot coffee. I lingered over the fresh food and trued not to blush at his questions. What brings a beautiful young girl to be al alone in Tortuga, with no lodgings?"  
  
I set my knife down with deliberation, and lied more smoothly than I had done since my days of deceiving my parents for petty gains.  
  
"My story is not unremarkable. I was accompanying my father on a voyage of business. We were captured by pirates, my family were killed and last night was my first change of escape." You see, I had firmly decided to convince Audrey to take me to the Americas, ignoring all thoughts of Jack and my dear Anamaria, not to mention my parents and home.  
  
"My goodness, so you really do have nowhere to go, you poor child." I nodded as meekly as I could, while stuffing myself with thick slices of toast, I had not tasted food this good since my stay at Smyth's house. My heart sank as I remembered Jack carrying me through the streets of Accra with my hurt ankle, when he could of left me for dead.  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant, I have nowhere and no one." I sighed, and cast my eyes downwards, continuing my breakfast. After a short period of silence there was a clatter of Audrey upsetting the toast rack as he hurriedly reached across the table.  
  
"Catherine, my dear child, I declare you must come to America with me!" I looked up, feigning shock. "No, I'll have no argument, I feel it my duty to rescue you from this place and give you the change of a new life."  
  
"Oh Lieutenant!"  
  
"Rot, woman – the name's James."  
  
"James, you are too kind. I would not like to be a burden to you on your long journey."  
  
"My dear child, you have no idea! This place is deadly to young women such as yourself. Yes, it is quite lucky I found you before you came to harm." He twirled his moustache and smiled. "Now, come to America with me."  
  
"Yes, James." I took a long drink of coffee.  
  
The rest of the day was spent walking out across the docks, discussing the details of the voyage. The town was quiet, its inhabitants sleeping off their excesses and we were alone. James spoke of extravagancies in such an off-hand manner it quite took my breath away.  
  
"Of course, new dresses must be bought for you as soon as we reach America. There is nowhere decent on this island to buy clothes, ad in any case they would be hard to keep clean on the voyage. What will you need? Let's see everyday, dinner, ballgowns, church and then there's coats, parasols, slippers, boots, shawls, hats and I'll warrant you'll want some jewellery?" He tickled me under my chin, but I just smiled. To hear a man talk of such things as necessities made me feel quite my old self again.  
  
"Oh, James."  
  
"Ah, hear is the ship we are to sail on, a pretty Galleon if ever I saw one." Immediately I was taken aback. It did not look to me like a merchant ship. Its lines were built for speed, as was its rigging and even for the threat of pirates, it was heavily armed. As I looked closer I could see scratches and dents in its sides, looked to be made my canon and grapeshot, and their were bites of cutlass marks on the rail, its name was 'Mary Read'  
  
"She's a rough and ready old thing, to be sure, but manned by a good honest crew. Mostly delivering luxuries to the Governor of Virginia, I believe."  
  
I nodded attentively and wondered if James knew it had once been a pirate ship. "We sail tonight, Catherine. I take it you have no further business on this island?"  
  
I longed to say goodbye to Anamaria, maybe even stow her aboard, but I knew if I saw her, I would not be able to leave.  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"Then let us retire back to our quarters for lunch."  
  
I was quiet for the rest of the day, though I took in another large meal, relishing the taste of tea, which I had not tasted for months. As much as I tried, I could not keep my thoughts off the subject of Jack. I went over every intimate moment together, from our first kiss, to my last sight of him with that abominable Ginny.  
  
James kept out of my way, preparing things for or voyage. I was glad, as I hated lying to him and began to daydream of my new life in America with my dashing Lieutenant.  
  
"Well, dear child, it is time for us to take our leave of this awful place." James set down his knife and fork, I nodded sleepily in agreement. After the third heavy meal of the day, and two glasses of wine I felt a little woozy and longed to be tucked up in a ship's birth, it sea rocking me to sleep. "I can see your tired, Catherine – Take my hand and I'll lead you to the ship."  
  
I did so and we walked in the cool evening air down to the docks, Tortuga was just coming alive for the night, it's stenches and it's evils rearing their heads again. My step was unsteady and I was surprised, after drinking grog for a good while on the Pearl I thought myself used to drink. Happy at the thought of the fine wines that awaited me in Virginia I stepped aboard the 'Mary Read' and allowed myself to be lead to a small cabin under the galley.  
  
"Goodnight, my dear child." And, without asking this time, James planted a wet kiss on my cheek.  
  
"Go-nuugh," I faltered, and shook my head as if to clear it, that wine was really very strong. James left me, and I stumbled about the room, preparing myself for bed. I had just removed the pins from my hair when their was a knock at the door. 


	22. Chpt 22

"James, what is…" I had only opened the door an inch, but James forced it back and stepped inside, stooping slightly to fit into the cramped cabin.

"That really is a lovely dress, you know Catherine." He spoke slowly. I smiled uneasily.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, you are too kind" I was eager for him to leave, my head was pounding.

"But don't take my word for it, some of the crew have been waiting for the chance to compliment you. Nibs, Gray, Nobby – What to you make of this lady's fine dress?" James called out into the innards of the ship, and three scruffy sailors entered. Seeing the cutlasses at their waists I surfaced from the potency of the wine into a rising panic.

"I'd say it were ver' bea-ut-eful." One of them ventured, grinning idiotically.

"Fer a whore" Added a second. I swallowed, a lump forming in my thoat.

"Quite right Nibs." James commented "I wonder if you know the common etiquette with whores?"

"Eh?" the third, who had not yet spoken, elbowed Nibs in the ribs and mumbled something into his grizzled beard that I could not understand. "Oh, right. We _'as 'em_ sir, good and 'ard, fer preference."

"_Quite_ Nibs," James wrinkled his nose, then advanced on me. "However, he's utterly right Cathy, and I rather think your going to oblige." With a quick, rough shove, I was sprawling on the bunk, the wind knocked out of me. Before I could recover, James had pinned me down and with a flick of a gully knife at my dress and undergarments he found what he wanted. He spoke no more, his mouth was a hard, thin line and I could not bare to look into his eyes.

My heart danced in my chest and spots blurred my vision, alternately pale and dark. The wooziness of the wine now hung heavy in my stomach and I forced the bile down as James shoved against me. One hand held my arms useless above me, the other clamped hard over my mouth, hard enough to bruise.

Again and again he thrust and what I had always been told was something wonderful became a painful nightmare.

Then with a grunt and a sharp slap round me face it was over and bleeding and sobbing I attempted to cover myself up, too dazed to wonder _why_ . But it was not over, there was Gary, Nibs, Nobby and James again and by the time they left me dawn was crawling over the sea and I felt dumb and lost.

* * *

**Urgh! I'm sorry, what a horrible way to leave my heroine and end my story! For those of you that cares about such things - I DID write the final chapter, and it does have a happy ending, in a bitter-sweet sort of way.**

**HOWEVER (please, oh please forgive the shameless self promotion, it's only because I feel my story is in desperate need of guidance) I am in the process of writing a new version of this story - Maiden Voyage, New and Improved. Same characters, but with a vastly simplified (and hopefully better) storyline - soooooo - if you liked this story, please, please go check out my new one and tell me what you think! xXx**


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